Give 'Em Hell, Girly
by squishyfrog
Summary: It's been around six and a half months since Milly lost her parents to a brutal murderer. Gerard's determined to keep his own encounter with their killer a secret from her...but what happens when the murderer's sister finds out about the encounter?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own/know/plan to hold hostage any of MCR, MSI, or any other band I may put/mention in here. Milly, David, and one or two future characters are all mine, though.**

**NOTE: There WILL be cursing, homo feelings, sexual innuendo, some gore, more possibly incorrect law speak, and some sad scenes. There WON'T be sex scenes, willing or otherwise, and probably no sickeningly sweet comments between lovers without at least one sarcastic response.**

* * *

Chapter 1

**Gee POV**  
"Bob, please don't do this," I begged over the phone.  
I didn't know why we were doing this over the phone. It seemed like a person to person kind of thing.  
"Gee, I don't _want _to, but I _have _to,"  
"The band won't be the same without you," I pouted.  
"I'm sorry," he said. "This wasn't the easiest decision for me, you know."  
I sighed. "We'll miss you. You know, we can get another drummer, but we can't replace you."  
He laughed. "Love you, too. Well...not like that."  
I laughed this time. "Relax, I know what you mean."  
Ever since Frankie and I started going out, the rest of the guys started feeling a little awkward showing affection like they used to. Well, Mikey didn't. But he's my brother. He has no choice.  
"I'll talk to you later," he said.  
"You'd better," I said.  
"Bye," he chuckled.  
"Bye,"  
I turned to Milly and Frankie, who both sat on the couch looking at me with concerned expressions.  
It was the middle of November, and Milly and I had now pretty much officially moved into Frankie's house, mainly because my house reminded me too much of the incident with David. But Milly didn't need to know that.  
To Frankie's disappointment, though, Lyn-z still visited quite often. I guess we really just needed time apart, because after she brought Milly home, we started getting along much better. The divorce was still happening, don't get me wrong, we just didn't want to rip each other to shreds anymore.  
I tried homeschooling Milly, which she seemed to like. Not the learning part of it, but the fact that I was a total push-over and she could pull the PTSD breakdown card anytime she wanted to get out of doing math. Lucky for her, her dad used to be an accountant.  
Next year, I was totally sending her to public school.  
"Bob's...leaving us?" Frankie asked. "Temporarily, right?"  
"No," I said.  
"Wait..._what_?" Frankie exclaimed.  
Milly, meanwhile, could only frown and cross her arms to show that she did _not _approve.  
"He said he's gotta do it...nothing I can say or do will stop him,"  
"That's _bogus_! That's totally bogus!" Frankie exclaimed.  
Milly held up her pad. _We can still see him, though, right?_  
"Yes, girly, we can still see him,"  
"We're never gonna find a drummer like Bob, though," Frankie pouted.  
"I know," I said. "I've told him that, he still can't stay with us."  
"_Damn _that Bob,"  
"Frankie," I scolded, coming over to him and squeezing his shoulders. "We still have to be happy for him. He's doing what's best for him, and we have to support that."  
"I know," he muttered. "It still makes me angry."  
Milly scribbled something. _Me too_.  
I shook my head at her, laughing silently.

* * *

**A/N: And the sequel has begun. But school's starting, sadly, so I won't have nearly as much time as I'd hoped to write this.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Milly POV**  
"Name two guys," my therapist, Virginia, said. "Other than Gerard and Frank."  
_Mikey and Bert_, I wrote.  
"Name two places you'd want to live,"  
_England and Italy,_  
"And now name two cars you'd like to drive,"  
I didn't know many cars; just the fancy ones, which I didn't really want to drive. But it didn't really matter to me; I had no idea what she was doing. She just said "let's play a different kinda game," picked up a second pad and pen, and started asking me those questions.  
_Buggy and Ferrari,_  
"Okay..." she started drawing some form of circle. "Tell me when to stop."  
I went ahead and wrote the word, then waited a few seconds, and flipped up my pad for her to stop.  
She started counting and scratching things out, smiling every now and then. Finally she stopped and turned the pad toward me.  
"You're going to live in a house in Iran, driving a Ferrari, married to Bob,"  
I couldn't help but laugh.  
"Why are you laughing? Is it really that ridiculous to you?"  
I nodded.  
"Which part of it?"  
_Everything except the house,_  
"So you can't see yourself living in Iran in the future...or married to Bob,"  
I shook my head.  
"Where _do _you see yourself in the future?"  
I should have known this was going to turn serious.  
I shrugged.  
"How about the minor things? Can you see yourself speaking?"  
I thought for a moment, then nodded.  
That idea actually made me kind of happy. I _did _want to talk...but every time I tried, images came to mind. Horrible images. And I had no idea why.  
"Can you see yourself in a relationship?"  
I shrugged.  
"Can you see yourself going to college?"  
I nodded.  
"Can you see yourself getting a career?"  
I nodded.  
"So you can see yourself living a relatively normal life?"  
I thought about it, then wrote _kinda_.  
"Kinda?"  
_I mean...I think I'll still be sad about Mom and Dad...and I won't do the things a lot of people do because I don't have a real family...but mostly I think it'll be normal,_  
"Then you're doing better than most of my traumatized patients,"

~~~~~~~~~~

**Frankie POV**  
"When is your Leathermouth tour?" Gee asked me while we waited for Milly.  
"Sometime in February,"  
"How long are you going to be gone?"  
"A month and a half,"  
"Can Milly and I go?" he asked with a pout.  
"Depends how she's doing," I said. "I don't want her to be somewhere that's going to stress her out."  
"I'm gonna miss you," he said.  
"Aw, baby, I'm gonna miss you, too,"  
"I'm gonna miss that sexy smile, and that sexy laugh," he said, leaning closer.  
"Yes, my sexy pot laugh,"  
"Oh, don't be so cynical," he said.  
Then put his lips on my neck and sucked a little.  
"Sarcastic, not cynical," I said, suppressing a small moan.  
"A sexy sarcastic," he continued.  
"You know, not-"  
He cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. A squeal emerged in my throat, as one did every time he kissed me. I choked it down as he bit at my lip ring, begging for entrance. I slid my tongue in his mouth and heard him giggle.  
Aaand then we heard a knock on the door.  
I pulled away from Gee and turned to find Milly giving us a "come _on_" look.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Gee POV**  
"What do you want to do first, girly?" I asked Milly.  
_Play Fort with Mikey_, she wrote.  
I chuckled. "No...what _subject _do you want to do? Art, science, history...?"  
_P.E._  
"You've already run around the house chasing Sweet Pea," I said. "Time to use your head."  
She shook her head.  
I nodded my head.  
She shook her head.  
I nodded my head.  
_There...we used our heads,_  
I laughed. "Oh, you witty girl. Now for the _inside _of our heads. What are we doing first?"  
She gave a heavy sigh. _English_.  
I'd hoped she would choose art, actually, but getting her to choose anything was enough of a miracle for me.  
I picked up her English book and plopped down on the couch in front of her. Just as I opened it, though, nearly every dog Frankie owned started chasing each other. Milly smiled and jumped up to chase after them.  
"Nuh-_uh_, girly," I said.  
But she was already halfway across the room, pretending she couldn't hear me.  
"Milly,"  
She growled at Peppers.  
"Milly!"  
She slumped in defeat, knowing she couldn't ignore me any more. She turned back toward me and walked back over to the couch.  
"_That's_ right, Blue Bell," I said, reopening her book. "Erm...vowels...can you name them?"  
She rolled her eyes. _A, E, I, O, U...I learned that five grades ago._  
"Okay," I said defensively. "Just checking. Um...Jimmy is blank of the twins...is it one: as old-"  
She held up her pad with a bored expression. _The older._  
"Oh...yeah, that's right," I said.  
_Art now?_  
"We're not finished _yet_," I said, no longer finding her A.D.D. amusing.  
She looked at the English book and slumped in her seat. I turned the page to find a work sheet.  
"Here...do that, then we can do art,"  
She nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Do _you _teach her, or do you give her the stuff and let her teach herself?" Mikey asked, sipping his Starbucks.  
"Neither...I think she already knows it all," I said.  
"You should be 'Unschoolers' then," he suggested.  
"What are those?"  
"They're people who say they homeschool their kids, but they don't teach them anything 'cause they don't believe in education,"  
"How do you _know _this shit?"  
"Wikipedia,"  
I laughed. "God, Mikey, you're such a freak."  
"Thanks, Gerard," he said sarcastically.  
"No...maybe I should, like, teach her 7th grade instead of 6th,"  
"Maybe you should, like, stop her from watching Youtube videos of when you were drunk,"  
I snapped my head toward the computer desk, to see myself talking about plants on the monitor. Milly's head was tilted, like she felt _totally _confused about what I was saying. A mixture of shame and anger rose within me.  
"Milly!" I snapped.  
She jumped and looked at me.  
"Why are you watching that? Turn it off!"  
She looked a little scared, but nodded calmly and closed the internet. After a quick glance at me, she got up and went to her room.  
I probably shouldn't have been so harsh, since she was probably just curious. But I snapped, and it scared her. I mean, I'd never snapped at her before, really, so she had reason to feel scared.  
"Shit," I muttered.  
"Aw...poor Milly," Mikey pouted.  
"What did you do?" I heard Frankie ask.  
I turned toward him and bit my lip.  
"I...kinda...snapped,"  
"Why? What happened?"  
"She was watching videos...of me and the plants..."  
"She lives with you! She's only known you for six months! Of course she's gonna watch videos of you!"  
And with that, Frankie stormed off to find Milly.  
_Fuck_,


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Frankie POV**  
_My heart was thumping, I was jumping...I had to get away. Some days you gotta dance. Live it up when you get the chance._  
Dixie Chicks played loudly from Milly's room, telling me just how upset Gerard had made her. I knocked on the door.  
"Milly, sweetie,"  
The door unlocked, but didn't open. I pushed it in and went inside. Milly never decorated her room. I guess that's mainly a teenage thing. Or maybe she had other things preoccupying her while she was in her room.  
Milly sat on her bed, hugging her blue-jean covered knees with a frown on her face.  
"Aw, girly, he didn't mean anything by it,"  
She picked up her pad and wrote something down. _Did I hurt his feelings?_  
"Well...maybe a little," I said, surprised and a little awed that she only cared about that. "But he's just sensitive about that subject. He wasn't hurt by _you_, exactly. Just...the reminder, really."  
_I didn't know he was so sensitive._  
"I know you didn't. _He _knows you didn't. It's just really a really sensitive thing for him, ya know...when he was an alcoholic. He can't think straight when he's confronted with it again."  
She started writing, then paused, like she wasn't sure she would want me to read it anyway.  
"S'ok, Blue Bell, you can tell me anything," I assured her.  
She continued writing, then flipped up her pad.  
_Why did he start drinking?_  
Good question. But could I explain it to an eleven-year-old who probably suffered more in those years than Gerard ever had? I had a feeling it would go one of two ways: she would either then find it acceptable to drink to cure pain, or see Gerard as pathetic.  
"Well...you know, he was hurt," I said. "I mean...no, that's not a healthy way to deal with things, but he was in that moment when that didn't matter. He was in a moment where _nothing _mattered, except getting rid of the pain he was feeling. Judgement no longer existed, morals no longer existed, _thoughts _no longer existed past 'I can't take this any more.' I know a lot of people say alcoholics are just idiots, but they're not."  
She appeared thoughtful for a moment, then nodded.

* * *

I left Milly alone, and walked out into the living room to find a nasty surprise. Jamia, sitting on the couch staring off into space.  
"Jamia?"  
She snapped her head toward me. "Hi, Frank."  
"Um...hi,"  
"So...Gerard's here...still,"  
"Um...what do you mean, '_still_?'" I asked, a little paranoid that she'd been spying on us.  
"I mean, I came by last night, and saw his car, so I decided to come back later...and...it's later...and he's still here," she said. "And I heard you talking to Milly, so I'm guessing she's been here a while, too."  
Then it finally occurred to me that Jamia hadn't ever met Milly. Nor did she know about my relationship with Gerard.  
"Why do you care? What are you even _doing _here?"  
"I came by to drop this off," she handed me a Beastie Boys CD. "I took it instead of my Black Flag CD."  
We actually alphabetize our CDs. It's kinda weird.  
"Well...yeah...Gerard and Milly live here,"  
She jerked her gaze away from me, and I saw tears fill her eyes.  
"Why won't you just _tell _me, Frankie?" she cried.  
"Tell you wha-"  
"You're in love with Gerard, you've _always _been in love with Gerard! Shit, Frankie, you loved _him_, but you married _me_! Why? Do you have any _idea _how much that hurt me? It still hurts me."  
I only stood there, paralyzed with shock and confusion.  
_You aren't what I thought you were_ she had said.  
"I'm sorry, Jamie," I said once I could speak. "You're right. But...I did love you. You were my best friend. You know I loved you."  
"Not like that, though," she said.  
"No...not like that,"  
She swallowed a few times and held back more tears before she continued. "Why is Gerard living with you?"  
I sighed, afraid to tell her the truth. Every time I was honest with her lately she seemed to end up bitch slapping me.  
"We're together now,"  
To my surprise, she came up to me and hugged me. Once she broke away, she held my face in her hands.  
"See? That's all I wanted from you. The truth,"  
"Is that why you were so fucked in the head?" I blurted out.  
She _laughed_, actually.  
"Yeah...yeah, that's why I _acted _so fucked in the head," she said, bringing her hands down to my shoulders. "I'm calmer now, I promise."  
I chuckled and took one of her hands in mine.  
"You've never met Milly, have you?"  
"You know...I haven't. Does she still wear all that blue?"  
"She does. We call her Blue Bell sometimes,"  
I led her back to Milly's room, thrilled to have my friend sane again.

* * *

**A/N: Yay, Jamia's back!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Gee POV**  
School with Milly was becoming not just frustrating and overbearing, but exhausting. That kid _did not want to learn_. Or maybe I was just a shitty teacher. And now I not only had Frankie and occasionally Mikey watching us, but Lyn-z and even fucking _Jamia _watching us.  
Frankie _tried _teaching Milly, and got a _little _farther than I had managed, but all in all it failed. Mikey tried it and failed. _Lyn-z_tried it. It failed.  
But then, somehow, by some will of the Fates that hated me, _Jamia _got her attention. Of all people. And Frankie _smiled _at her when it happened. Smiled. _How could he smile at her?_  
Granted, I was still friends with Lyn-z, and Jamia and Frank still weren't as close as they used to be, so I guess I was just being a retard. But I still _really _hated the idea of Jamia being able to reach Milly when I couldn't.  
And how did she reach Milly? With analogies, that somehow we hadn't thought to use. Really, really long analogies that actually apply to life. Milly's life, more importantly. And telling history like a ghost story, which we had somehow missed in the Gauntlet of Creativity.  
"She's so adorable," Jamia said one day once she gotten Milly to run off and do some English homework.  
"Yeah...now," I muttered bitterly, though I should have felt angry at Jamia instead of Milly. "Just wait until you're alone with her."  
"'Wait until?' You mean like babysitting? 'Cause I'd be glad to-"  
"No, I don't need a babysitter," I said sharply.  
Jamia looked a little hurt by my tone, which she should have been, while Frankie gave me a "chill out" glare.  
"If we do need one, we would really appreciate it, though," Frankie said, continuing to glare at me. "Milly seems to like you a lot."  
"Really?"  
He was totally exaggerating the "a lot." I mean, Milly probably saw her as a good teacher, but that was it. Maybe an amusing personality, but seriously? Milly's only known her for a little while. She barely even likes _my _friends. Let alone Frankie's "friends."  
And there I go again, acting like a jealous teenager.  
Once Milly came back with her homework and started listening to Jamia again, Frankie discretely walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist.  
"Get a grip," he whispered, quiet enough so neither Milly nor Jamia would get distracted. "You're acting like a jealous teenager."  
"Can you fucking read my mind?" I asked.  
"Yes," he smiled. "Because I love you. _You_, Gee."  
"And I love _you_," I said, acknowledging his not-so-hidden message.  
I leaned down to kiss him. When I straightened up again, I caught a brief glimpse of Jamia glaring at me. A different kind of glare than Frank's, though. Not a "be civil" glare...an "I hate you more than Marilyn Manson hates Justin Bieber" glare.  
Been there, done that.  
Shit, she was the one who asked for a divorce. Can't blame me for actually loving Frankie back.

* * *

_Why can't you just come_ to bed? I thought, listening to Frankie argue about the Leathermouth set list over the phone.  
I pulled the covers off and went over to the door. Frankie had taken off his shirt, taunting me with his Jack-o-Lantern tattoo. I leaned against the door, feeling a smile come to my face.  
_Or you can stay like that_, I corrected myself.  
He finally hung up the phone and turned to me. A huge grin broke out over his face.  
"You coming to bed, babe?" I asked.  
"Mmm-hmm," he kept grinning.  
"What?" I asked, suspicious.  
"Nothing," he lied.  
We _so _weren't just going to bed. And that was fucking fine by me.

* * *

**A/N: Haha, but Gee still doesn't like Jam.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Lyn-z POV**  
The sliding door shot open again, letting in yet another freezing gush of air. Of course it then had to take two fucking minutes to close, by which time yet another person forced it to open again. By the time I had reached the grocery store check-out line, I felt ready to set fire to the entire chip isle in order to get some warmth in the store.  
The creepy lady behind me, who actually recognized me "from somewhere," didn't help my irritation. Not that she technically did anything worse than anyone else who's randomly started talking to me in a grocery store, there was just _something _about her that...scared me, I guess. Like I felt threatened by her. She kept talking to me about the most fucking random things in the world, every now and then saying how she wished she could remember where she had seen me, until she finally pinpointed it.  
"You're...Lyn-z...Gerard Way's wife, aren't you?"  
I can't count how many times people have said that instead of "MSI's bassist."  
"Ex-wife...we got the divorce finalized yesterday,"  
"Oh! That's right...I remember reading about that somewhere..."  
Okay, lady, could you get any fucking creepier?  
"You know, I heard about his latest stunt, too..."  
"Milly?" I asked.  
"No...the other one?"  
"Frankie?"  
"No...before he started dating that fag,"  
Whoa..._that _was a little bit of a shock. No "MCR fan" had ever called Frankie a _fag _before. Maybe a "hyper son of a bitch", or "that crazy bastard on the guitar"...but that was the worst I'd heard.  
Maybe this lady was even more of a threat to them than I had originally imagined. Or maybe I was just being over paranoid. But something about her _really _fucking creeped me out.  
"Anyway...I'm Carrie,"  
"Nice to meet you," I lied, feeling a huge wave of relief as the cashier started swiping my stuff.  
"Do you still see Gerard?"  
"Um...yeah...I'm sorry, do you...do you know him?"  
Stupid question, Lyn. He's in a fucking band. How else would she know you were married to him?  
"No...someone I know used to,"  
Getting creepier by the second, lady.  
"Right...I just- I didn't know if he knew a Carrie, and-"  
"Well, don't let me keep you," she interrupted. "Tell him I said hi."  
And with that, she walked away, leaving her stuff on the belt and the cashier confused. We exchanged "what the hell?" looks, and I gathered my bags and hurried out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

**Milly POV**  
Gerard and I were on the couch, watching President Obama give a national message or whatever. I didn't care what it was called, or even what he was saying. I don't care about politics, I just wanted a hug.  
So I was hugging Gerard's waist and resting my head on his shoulder, while he rubbed my arm supportively. Eventually I heard Obama say something about PTSD, and Gerard brushed back my hair. Then I heard Frank slam the garage door.  
We turned to him and found a disturbed look on his face. I thought it must have had something to do with his Leathermouth mini-tour, which he had been planning carefully for a while now. But then he asked Gerard if he could talk to him.  
Gerard patted my arm, signaling for me to sit up so he could go talk to Frankie. They went inside their bedroom and locked the door. I couldn't help it; I got up and started eavesdropping.  
"What is it, babe?" I heard Gerard ask.  
"The new district attorney called...she told me about a Carrie, do you know a Carrie?" Frank said, sounding more distraught now than disturbed.  
"No," Gerard sounded suspicious.  
"She said Carrie found out about what happened with David...she came storming into her office, demanding to know why we weren't arrested,"  
I barely kept myself from having a heart attack upon hearing that monster's name.  
Why _they _weren't arrested? For what? Adopting me? That didn't make any sense. But nothing did, so it didn't matter to me. She was probably just some crazy person.  
"Because it wasn't technically against the law-"  
"_I_ know that, Gee. You don't get what I'm saying,"  
"That some crazy woman who must have known him thinks we did something wrong-"  
"You're not asking the right question, Gee,"  
"You're not _explaining _the right-"  
"_Who is Carrie_?" Frankie interrupted.  
"_I_ don't know,"  
I could barely hear the whisper that came from Frank's voice next, and after it came out I wished I hadn't.  
"She's David's _sister_, Gee,"

~~~~~~~~~~

**A/N: DUN DUN DUN!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: For some reason, I feel like the sequel's going to be even shorter than the first one. But maybe not. Anyway, might not update for a while.**

Chapter 7

**Frank POV**  
I heard a rustle outside the door, which made my heart skip a tiny beat. Gee opened the door to reveal nothing, but we knew who was there.  
"Milly?" I called, walking out just in time to hear a door slam and lock.  
"I'll take care of it," Gee said, just as the doorbell rung. "You get the door."  
My day only got worse as I opened the door to reveal Lyn-z. I mentally berated myself, realizing I was acting just like Gee had toward Jamia.  
"Lyn, what's up?  
"I think you have a problem,"  
"Me?"  
"All of you," she said.  
I couldn't help but notice how scared she looked. Great.  
"What kind of problem?"  
"Erm...a stalker kind of problem," she said. "Who now has your phone number."  
"Fuck," I muttered. "What do you mean? How does a stalker have my phone number?"  
She told me the story about the woman in the store, and said that she spoke to one of the workers there, who said that she'd been hanging around there everyday for a week or so, without ever buying anything. Then once Lyn got into the car, she noticed her phone was missing.  
Finally, she gave me the one piece of information I feared all along. The woman's name was Carrie.  
"She must be from New York or something, because I swear I didn't feel anything,"  
"Carrie," I repeated, trying to steady my breathing. "Carrie."  
Nope. Couldn't do it.  
Hyperventilation suffocated me...ironically. I covered my mouth with both of my hands in an attempt to block any cries from escaping. Demented thoughts came to mind, smirking at me. I felt Lyn-z's hand on me, but I couldn't pay attention to her. How could I, when a psychopath's probably psychotic sister was on the loose right fucking here in L.A? Oh, and with a phone that had our numbers, which could pretty much tell her where we lived.  
"Frankie?"  
"Lyn, what happened to him?"  
"I dunno, he's having a panic attack,"  
"Carrie," I sobbed. "Carrie here. L.A. Here."  
"What? Are you sure?"  
I pointed at Lyn-z and started sobbing. Gee wrapped me in an unrequited hug, trying his best to wipe away my tears.  
"Who's Carrie?" she asked. "I didn't know who she was, she just came up and started talking, I didn't know anything."  
Gee explained everything to her while I choked back sobs. Lyn only sat there, eyes wide.  
_We're gonna die this time,_ I thought, bringing my hand up to my barely healed bullet wound. _We're certainly, most definitely, sure as fuck going to die. If she's as fucked up as David, we shouldn't even bother with guards._  
"So that crazy bitch is here, with our phone numbers, and a will to...what?"  
"_To kill us_, Gee," I finally snapped. "She's going to kill us! I shot her brother and now she wants to murder us!"  
"_Shhh_, Milly's in the other room," he reminded me, parting from my side.  
"And do you plan on hiding her _this _time, Gee? How? Last time we got lucky; last time Eliza didn't know what the fuck to do, so Milly ran away before David could find her. How do you think you can duplicate that?"  
"Carrie's not David," he said.  
"No _shit_, Sherlocke," I spat. "Maybe she's worse. Maybe she won't leave dumbass notes _letting us know she's coming,_ and she'll just come. Maybe she actually has a motive, when David just randomly picked a few victims and got pissed when he didn't finish."  
"Frankie, you're not making this easy,"  
"Well, I got news for you darling. This was never easy!"  
"Frankie's kinda right, Gee," Lyn finally chimed in. "Just from what I saw, Carrie doesn't seem too sane. I mean, she went from Oklahoma, to L.A., just to spend a week hanging around a freezing grocery store until she could finally steal my cell phone. That's a little creepy."  
Just then we heard a door open, so we shut up. Milly came around the corner, carrying her hallmark pad and pencil. She saw me and started writing something down.  
_What's wrong, Frankie?_  
"Nothing, sweetie," I said.  
_Is it David's sister? I didn't know he had a sister,_  
I could tell she was still stressing over that.  
"You shouldn't have to," I told her. "It doesn't matter. I didn't know, either."  
"It's nothing to worry about, Blue Bell," Gee said.  
_She has half of his genes, of course it's something to worry about,_  
"Girly...come here," Lyn beckoned to her with her hand.  
She came up to her timidly. Lyn-z pulled her into her lap and hugged her tightly.  
"I assure you, someone like him is a one in a million mutation of humanity. And the thing about siblings is...they tend to be the polar opposite of each other,"  
"Like me and Mikey," Gee added.  
"Yeah...the only thing they have in common is the band they're in," she said. "Chances are, it's the same with David and his sister."  
It was heartwarming and all, watching Lyn-z connect with Milly like that. And it made me happy that she wanted her to feel calmer, and not let Carrie ruin what little progress she'd made. But it was one thing to lie to a PTSD sufferer in order to keep what's left of their sanity intact, and another thing entirely to deal with the truth that's waiting for you...with your phone number and scary creeper genetics.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I had no idea what to expect the next few weeks. It was early December, and we hadn't experienced _anything _weird yet. Gee and I both guessed Carrie would wait a little while to make a move, if she planned on making a move. I kept remembering David say his sister took him to the shrink...so maybe that meant she was a totally different kind of crazy.  
The district attorney, Melanie, who replaced the one that worked on Milly's case, said she'd looked into Carrie's medical history, and found a diagnosis of schizophrenia. That didn't exactly comfort anyone.  
"Classical," I said. "Just _classic_. A perfect excuse to go around murdering people."  
"But she was treated for a while," Gee said. "Melanie _said _she went to see a shrink recently to get more meds."  
"But how do you know she's taking them?"  
"Well-"  
Then the doorbell rang.  
"Why does everyone always have to _come over?_" I groaned. "Phones exist for a reason!"  
Gee rolled his eyes and stepped over Peppers to answer the door. Mikey flew inside, followed by Alicia, who had a very obvious amused expression on her face.  
Mikey immediately started talking full speed, which is insanely incomprehensible for him, sounding unbelievably excited, while Alicia tried in vain to slow him down.  
"Mikey," she said.  
He kept babbling, something about whether or not to get blankets.  
"Mikey," she repeated, sounding more strained.  
More babbling, now about rubber ducks possibly irritating someone. Peppers started yipping along with him.  
"_Mikey_," Alicia tried again.  
He gestured to her and rambled about making sure something wasn't cliché.  
"_Mikey!_" she exclaimed.  
"Whatwhatwhat?" he asked, sounding annoyed now.  
"You didn't even tell them!"  
"YeahIdid," he blurted out.  
"Slow. Down. And tell them,"  
"Mikey, did you take your me-"  
"Ididtakemymedication," he interrupted me.  
"He's just excited," Alicia smiled.  
"Why? What happened?" Gee asked.  
"I'm pregnant-"  
"Shepregnant-"  
"I just said that-"  
"I know,"  
"Oh my God!" I squealed excitedly, wrapping her in a bear hug.  
"Imma be an uncle!" Gee exclaimed, hugging Mikey.  
We switched around so that I could hug Mikey and Gee could hug Alicia.  
"Imma be a daddy! Where's Milly? OmigahIgottagotellMilly,"  
Gee pointed down the hall, toward Milly's room. Mikey skipped down the hall, leaving us with Alicia, who started talking almost as fast as Mikey.  
"You should've seen him earlier, he went to the store and bought 50 times more necessary shit than necessary, like the prenatal vitamins, which he wants me to put in the Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday container thingies- I dunno why, it's not like it would be fatal if I confused one vitamin for another, but he says it would be easier or some shit, like mental strain is bad for the baby- God, he's so fucked up in the head sometimes."  
"Hey!" we heard Mikey. "Not nice. Anywaysowethought-"  
Gee and I exchanged amused looks as Mikey started chattering again, basically repeating everything he'd said before. As if we could understand what the fuck he was saying now that we knew what he was talking about.

* * *

**A/N: Oh, you don't even KNOW what to expect.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**Milly POV**  
I held up the answer to the equation, but Jamia wouldn't look at it. Lyn-z sat on the coffee table across from us, watching Jamia teach me. Like that's exciting, or something. But anyway, Jamia stared at the ceiling and took my pad, then pointed it at me and looked at me expectantly.  
What did she _expect _exactly?  
"Now...I seem to have blurry eyes today-"  
I got what she was saying and shook my head wildly, feeling slightly angry that she expected that already. I folded my arms defiantly to make sure she got that.  
"No?"  
I raised an eyebrow in order to say "you can _too _read it, stupid."  
"Why not?"  
I shook my head.  
"Please?"  
I shook my head again.  
"Pretty please?  
I glared.  
"Can you at least try?"  
I looked away in resentment, but felt slightly pressured to try anyway. I looked back at the pad, and urged my mouth to open. Thoughts of giggling at Gerard's crazy comments eased my mind, enabling me to breathe through my mouth...in...and out.  
I willed the first syllable to come...and my mind snapped to another scenario, where a knife pierced my cheek and blood poured onto my tongue as I gasped in pain. Sounds of crying and screaming grated my eardrum and stabbed at my heart. Then a hand brought me back from the memory, removing the imaginary palate of blood from my taste buds.  
"Milly," Lyn-z said. "Relax...you don't have to say anything until you're ready...okay?"  
I nodded, noticing how she glared at Jamia ever so slightly. Jamia now stood across the room, "talking" to Gerard. Or, rather, listening to Gerard rant at her.

~~~~~~~~~~

**Gee POV**  
"What the _fuck _is your problem?" I asked Jamia. "You've not even known her for a month, and now you expect her to just start _talking _per your _request_?"  
"That's not-"  
"She _goes to therapy_, Jamia, _that's _where she tries to start speaking again! You coming here and trying to force her to-"  
"I didn't want-"  
"-talk, doesn't make the process any faster! If anything, it slows it down. She's _tried _to talk, trust me, and the last thing she needs is the constant reminder that she _can't_."  
"I was just trying to help,"  
"She doesn't fucking need your help," I spat.  
Jamia immediately looked infuriated, and I vaguely wondered if I would regret saying that, despite my ever present desire to verbally bitch slap her. And _literally _bitch slap her.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I wasn't _worthy _to help you guys," she hissed. "Since you're obviously so much _better _than me, and obviously more _needed _than the rest of the-"  
"You know what, get over yourself," I said.  
"Get over _myself_?" she laughed bitterly. "I'm not the one with a head bigger than Neptune."  
"Or maybe it just seems that way because Frankie'd rather be with me than your crazy ass,"  
Crap. Did I really just say something I haven't heard since middle school? I hoped she'd ignore that.  
"Very mature, Gerard. I thought we were talking about _Milly_,"  
"Yeah, and I've already made my point, which you can't seem to take like a _sane person_,"  
"Or maybe it's just that you're a fucking asshole! You don't want help, okay. I'll leave. Good luck teaching her anything other than art."  
I looked over at Lyn-z, who was calming Milly down. I noticed something else: I never hated Jimmy as much as I hated Jamia.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**Frank POV**  
_No one but me  
No one but you  
See rendez-vous (under my tree)  
No one but me  
No one but you_

Christmas time, and Milly was blaring N'Sync's _Home for Christmas_ album while she decorated the tree. Mikey, Alicia, and Gerard sat around the coffee table, smirking at the music selection, while I handed Milly ornament after ornament.  
Mikey, being the lovable son of a bitch he is, went from protective of Alicia, to overprotective of Alicia once she became pregnant. That plus his sheer excitement, meant he _hated _letting her out of his sight.  
"It's utterly, and _completely _obnoxious," Alicia said.  
Mikey grinned. "Well it's not like I force you to go _everywhere _with me."  
"No, but your incessant asking if I want to go is _obnoxious_," she said. "Oh, and now he's decided that, until the baby's born, I'm not supposed to be anywhere far from a hospital."  
"Aw, come on, Mikey," I said. "She's only a month along. Plus, your own _home _is far from a hospital, if you get snowed in."  
"Don't say _that_!" he exclaimed.  
"Well, I did,"  
"And you kinda live in L.A., Mikey," Gee said. "It takes you an hour to just get down the street."  
"I'll kick your face," Mikey told him.  
"I'm just sayin', little bro,"  
Milly suddenly hopped down off the ladder and grabbed her pad to write something down. She sat on the coffee table and showed Alicia.  
"Names? Nah, we haven't thought of names yet...we don't even know the sex,"  
"So? You can still think of names for both sexes," I said, sitting down next to Milly.  
Milly stood up and put her pad in front of my face.  
_Ornament time,_  
"_A...D...D_..., child!" I told her.  
She grinned and went over to the tree anyway.  
"I think we need eggnog," Mikey said.  
"I think you'd _better not_ make eggnog," Alicia warned him.  
"I can make special non-alcoholic eggnog for you," he said.  
Mikey always made his own eggnog, and he always put alcohol in it. Actually, I think he just lied to Alicia, because his head would probably explode if he tried to figure out how to make eggnog _without _alcohol.  
"And Gerard," I added.  
"Right," Mikey said, pinching Gee's cheeks. "No alcohol for da _silly willy_!"  
Gee only glared at him, then added, "And Milly."  
I looked over at Milly, who actually _pouted_.  
"Awww, I think Milly wants some _real _eggnog!" Mikey said, already disappearing into the kitchen.  
Milly nodded.  
"_No_," Gerard said sternly.  
Milly pouted again.  
"You're 11 years old!"  
"I think we've been a bad influence on her," I said.  
Then she hopped down and raced to another Christmas box, apparently completely forgetting the subject already.  
"Alcohol must not be a top priority for her," Alicia smirked.  
I heard Milly let out a "hmm" sound, and she picked up a mistletoe, only to flick it to the side, obviously disgusted with it. Gerard chuckled as she continued to roam through the box. I guessed Milly was looking for a game to play.  
She let out another "hmm," more high-pitched this time, like she'd gotten an idea, and then skipped into the kitchen. We heard nothing, but in a matter of seconds she came back with a box of candy canes. She scribbled something down on her pad and showed it to me.  
_Glue gun?_  
"Oh God," I laughed.

* * *

As if my mistletoe wasn't tacky enough, Milly had to go make it more tacky with the fucking candy canes. But at least that got her to let me put it up. Or...force me to put it up.  
She'd snapped off several candy cane curves and glued the straight parts together, then glued that to a whole candy cane and stuck the mistletoe on the curved part. The rest of the curved parts she'd broken off, she glued into lopsided ovals and stuck on the sides of the mistletoe. I swear, I didn't think it would stay together because it was so ridiculously candy-caned. But it did, and I could put it up between the kitchen and the living room.  
Once I finished putting it up, Milly immediately ran off, like I knew she would. But Gee strolled up to me and lingered. I smiled, and let him pull me off the chair.  
"Oh God," I heard Mikey say.  
I merely flipped him off in response, while Gee bent down and pressed his lips against mine. He bit at my lip ring, and licked my lower lip. I let him in, and stroked his tongue lovingly with mine. He grabbed my hair, while I grabbed his shirt, and we pulled each other close.  
"Bitches, keep it in your pants!" Mikey exclaimed.  
Which was hard, since mine was about to pop out. Guess I was gonna have to give Gee an early Christmas present.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, mainly a filler. I think the next few chapters might be like this.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**Gee POV**  
"Milly," I said in a voice as serious as I could manage.  
The clamor of people shopping for their friends and bosses made it hard for me to hold her attention, both because she still felt a tiny bit of uneasiness around big crowds, which the mall happened to have that day, and because she was so excited to shop, too.  
"Oh my God!" a sudden shriek interrupted me, and a teenage girl grabbed my arm. "You're Gerard Way!"  
Just in case I needed to be reminded.  
"I read about- Oh my God, thisisMillyshe'sso_cute_doesshe  
stillnotspeakI'vewantedtomeetherforsolongI'vealreadymetyouyouprobablydon't  
rememberitI'  
couplehiMillyI'mHannah!"  
She stuck her hand out toward Milly, who looked halfway terrified and halfway confused. Milly timidly took her hand anyway and shook it, then stepped back a little and watched as the fan girl squealed something about me and Frankie. Typically I can get a word in with people, but this time I could only say "yeah" every now and then. And imagine if people knew about Alicia.  
I suppressed a sigh of relief once she hugged me - which usually means they just said they have to go, I couldn't tell with this girl - and then left. I turned back to Milly, who now looked like she wanted to laugh.  
"Anyway," I said. "Since you haven't hijacked my car recently," she grinned. "I'm gonna reward you...by letting you shop by yourself."  
Her eyes brightened.  
"As long as you _promise _to not leave the mall, or do anything that would get you arrested, and you meet me back at Starbucks at four,"  
She nodded.  
"You promise?"  
She nodded again, her smile getting wider.  
I pulled out my wallet and handed her ten twenties, which made her eyes go wide. She'd probably never been given more than one twenty before, I realized.  
"Don't spend it all in one place," I said.  
She put her fingers to her chin and brought them down, then ran off. I didn't know for sure, but I guessed that was sign language for "thank you."

* * *

**Milly POV**  
I made a mental note as I walked;

__

Gerard - Smashing Pumpkins, Queen, art

Frankie - Beastie Boys, Black Flag, guitar

Lyn-z - School girl clothes, bass, shocking things

Mikey - Anthrax, sushi, hoola-hoops

_Jamia - ...why don't I have any ACTUAL friends?_

I stopped walking and thought about that. Sure, they counted as friends. But older friends...that's not really the same thing. Gerard brought me from Oklahoma right about when I would have gone from elementary school to middle school. In elementary school I didn't really have _friends_, I just got along with people. I vaguely remember feeling excited about middle school _because _of the "making friends" deal...but that quickly went away with the _incident_. And then this school year started...and I guess I felt more concerned about the _incident _than friends.  
But I didn't want to think about that.  
What I needed to concentrate on was finding presents for the people I knew _then_...and maybe a baby shower present for Alicia.

* * *

I strolled into Starbucks right at four, a number of bags in my hand, and feeling quite amused with myself.  
"All _right_," Gerard said happily once he saw me in one piece. "You didn't do anything I'm gonna have to pay for, did you?"  
I smiled and shook my head.  
His eyes narrowed, like he knew something was up. He took my pad out of one of his bags.  
"No, but you did _something_, I can tell,"  
I took the pad and pen.  
_I got kicked out of Game Stop,_  
"_Seriously_?" he asked, more annoyed than angry. "What did you do?"  
_I climbed on a game rack,_  
He let out a small giggle, but then recovered immediately.  
"Well, don't do that again," he said, still struggling against a smile.

* * *

**A/N: Now, I don't want too many POVs, but would ya like for me to add a Mikey POV? It would probably only be just _once_, and I'd only be able to talk about Alicia's pregnancy. I know, you're like, "it's a fan fic, you can talk about whatever the hell you want!" But that's just the limits of my mind and the story, ect. ect. Or maybe it's my OCD, I dun really know.**

**Comment please! 3**


	12. Chapter 12

**Lyn-z POV**  
"_Lyn,_" Jimmy moaned.  
"Mmm-hmm," I murmured through the barrier of his neck.  
He ripped his belt off and forced my lips away from his neck. I went to his chest instead, but then jerked away at the sound of a scratching noise.  
"What?" he asked.  
"I heard something,"  
"It's probably the dog," he told me, kissing me again.  
"Mmm-hmm," I agreed.  
I felt his hands go to my waist, and then down my skirt. He fingered the edge of the cloth, and then flipped it aside in order to slide his hand up my thigh. My underwear slowly slipped off, as did his pants.  
And I jerked away again.  
"_What_ are you hearing?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.  
"I don't know, I don't think it's the dog," I said, getting up and heading to the back door.  
I turned the back porch light on, and peeked outside. I saw nothing, so I opened the door. The cold air that rushed in was hard to ignore, especially going commando. Technically it was only around 50 degrees, but after living in L.A. for a while, that felt cold to me.  
"Susan?" I called.  
She didn't bark in response.  
"Come here, girl,"  
No response.  
I went to the porch rail and looked around for her in the backyard. _Something_ moved, but it looked a fuck of a lot bigger than Susan, and I could only see the shadow.  
My heart leaped in my throat, and my breath froze in my lungs. I fought to keep bile down as fear consumed me. I knew who it was, and that did anything but help. I forced myself to turn around...and there was Susan.  
Cut into four gruesome pieces, in the corner of the porch.  
"_Jimmy_!" I cried. 

* * *

_Relax. Breathe. In. Out. Breathe. In. Out. Cry. Don't. Sob. Cry. Don't. Sob. She's not there anymore, she's gone._  
"Lyn!"  
I knew that voice, but I wouldn't answer. I wouldn't answer to anyone. Not even when he knelt down right in front of me.  
"Lyn," Gerard repeated, taking my face in his hands.  
My heart jumped a little, and for a moment I felt the same way I had a year ago. Totally and completely head over heels in love with him. I wanted to hold him close, I wanted to kiss, cuddle, make love, and do it all over again. It calmed me, but I couldn't hold on to it. That devotion, that fire, left me.  
"What happened? Why'd you have Jimmy call me?"  
I did? Oh...right.  
I pointed toward Susan's broken body.  
"She's still here," I said, watching his horrified face. "She's playing with us. Cat and mouse."  
He stayed silent for a while, gawking at my dog. Eventually tears of frustration came to his eyes, and he glared down at his hands. He let out a exaggerated huff and finally looked at me.  
"No one's this heinous...or this desperate to cause pain...randomly,"  
We'd already classified it wasn't random. "She has a moti-"  
"She _shouldn't_ have a motive. Not a real one, anyway. You avenge an innocent man, not someone like David,"  
"She's schizophrenic, only abnormal psychology applies to her," I said.  
"I guess even cruelty as strong as what David inflicted isn't enough to destroy family ties," he said.  
"Do you think she stopped taking her meds?"  
"I think she's not taking them as a fall back plan,"  
Great. A _smart_ schizo.  
"You need to tell Milly," I said, though I knew he wouldn't.  
"About _this_?" he exclaimed.  
"Not this...just that she's in the area. And...you know..."  
He struggled to keep a calm expression.  
"Not what happened. I already lied," his voice broke, and tears leaked out of his eyes. "She trusts me. And she's already so scared."  
He started crying harder, and sat down next to me, clearly exhausted.  
"But what if she _does_ come? I can't hide Milly anymore. And she can't take another incident. I don't think _I_ can take another incident,"  
"Gee...I think you underestimate her," I told him honestly.  
He looked at me, still crying, but apparently wondering if I may have been right. I gestured for him to come closer, and I wrapped him in a hug.  
"You keep saying she trusts you, but don't you trust her? I thought you two had a little saying. Something like, 'if life sucks, it might as well suck honestly.' Is that right?"  
He laughed a little and nodded. "Yeah, that's right."  
"If you're gonna go through this again...you should go through it with all your cards out on the table,"  
He took in another shaky breath, then nodded firmly. He gave me another smile.  
"Thanks, Lyn,"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

**Gee POV**  
"Gee?" Frankie asked me suspiciously, kissing my hand.  
I cuddled closer to him and pulled the blankets up farther. "Yeah?"  
"I think we should tell Milly,"  
I froze for a moment, then said, "About what?"  
"Carrie,"  
My first instinct was to say "no," but I couldn't say that to my little Frankie.  
"Why?" I asked instead.  
"If something happens and she finds out we knew, she'd never forgive us,"  
He had a point. A point I hated to admit, but had to admit after witnessing what she did to poor Susan.  
I kissed his forehead and slipped my arm back around his waist. He rested his head against my chest and sighed.  
"I guess you're right," I said.  
"You _guess_?" he giggled. "I think you _know_."  
"Shut up," I smiled.  
"Make me," he said, giving me a cheeky smile.  
"Oh, I see how it is," I murmured, already obeying his command.  
He giggled happily into the kiss and fingered my chest. Eventually he slipped his hand up my shirt, while I intertwined our legs. But, of course, just as things got heated, the door opened.  
"Fuckbirds!" Mikey yelled. "Get out of bed! We brought you more news!"  
"You're having twins?" Frankie guessed.  
"No! Get in the living room!"  
We groaned, but obeyed. As soon as I rolled over, I saw Milly and, shockingly, Jamia standing over by Mikey - for what reason, I couldn't fathom. Jamia hadn't been around since I'd screamed at her about Milly, and there she stood, holding Milly's hand. Looking at her then, a timid expression on her face, made me feel a little guilty. I hated to admit it...actually, I won't admit it.  
Fine. I'll admit it. _I_ was the asshole that day.  
Still, I ignored her as I passed her and headed toward the couch. Ray, Christa, Mikey, Alicia, Lyn, Jamia, and Milly had all gathered around Brian, whom I assumed had brought us band news. Lyn and Alicia, still best friends despite a hectic six months or so, sat next to each other with linked arms. Ray had his arm around Christa, while Mikey remained standing. Jamia sat down on the floor, and let Milly sit in her lap and hug her neck.  
_Damn it, Milly actually does seem to like her,_ I thought.  
Frankie and I took a seat, in a position similar to Jamia and Milly's, and waited for Brian.  
"I have three pieces of news, actually," he said. "First of all, you guys have an interview scheduled on Thursday with MTV-"  
"Manager say _what_?" Frankie interrupted. "Brian...you _know _I hate MTV."  
"And _you _know I don't care," Brian said with disinterest. "Secondly...you guys have already reached number 5 on the Billboard 200!"  
He received a few cheers over that.  
"Okay...and finally...you guys are going on a world tour a year from today!"  
This time he received more than a few cheers, and an excited smile from Milly.  
But _dammit_, I'd have to be the one to take that smile away. After all the progress she'd made, I'd have to tell her that God only knows what may or may not happen.  
I couldn't think about that then, though. I had to concentrate on acting happy about the news. Which was pretty fucking exciting. Poor Frankie, though, had a tour and a half, pretty much. But Frankie could do anything. And I mean, world tours were fucking amazing, and this would be the first one with Milly. Of course, that may or may not have been a good thing.  
"Hey, Milly," Frankie said. "Do you still believe in Santa Claus?"  
She shook her head, looking a little confused.  
"Okay, good, 'cause he wouldn't be able to find you next year,"  
I laughed, though in the back of my mind I couldn't help but hope he wasn't the only one.  
"So Christmas-slash-record awesomeness party!" Mikey said. "I'll make eggnog!"  
Alicia let out an annoyed groan.

* * *

Frankie managed to convince Milly to let him pick the music, while the girls chatted happily, and Brian and Ray awkwardly tried to avoid the mistletoe that Frankie and I had _conveniently _placed ourselves under.  
Mikey decided to also make cookies, with which Milly happily started helping him. In the middle of sucking face with Frankie, I felt one being pressed in between our lips. We reluctantly parted, only to look at Mikey smirking at us.  
"Have a cookie," he said...or commanded.  
I pointed up. "Wanna join us, Mikes?"  
"Fuck no!"  
"Ohhh, Christmas ruuuules!" Frankie said.  
"Well, I'm a rule breaker...and so are you, as I recall," Mikey said, walking back toward Milly.  
"Only the ones that are fun to break," Frankie argued.  
"I understand my brother's not satisfying, but I can't help with that,"  
"He is when he uses his penis!"  
Milly's eyes widened and she spun back around.  
"You traumatized the kid," I said.  
"Oops,"  
And then a giant cookie dough ball came flying at us, and hit Frankie right in the stomach.  
"Ha_ha!_" Mikey exclaimed. "Nice job, Blue Bell."  
She gave him a pound it, then grinned at us.  
"Oh yeah?" Frankie scoffed, picking up the dough.  
He tore it in half, and rolled the two halves up.  
"Try it, Frodo, I dare you," Mikey laughed.  
While Mikey might have lost his outward nerdiness, he still had the coordination of a nerd. Frankie managed to hit his moving target in the balls.  
And so the cookie dough fight began.

* * *

**A/N: It's gonna get more exciting soon. I swear. ;)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I feel like this chapter is boring. And I feel like no one is reading this sequel. Please comment if you are!**

**Oh, I've been leaving my A/Ns at the bottom of the chapters...if you having noticed. Just FYI**

Chapter 14

_"Run bunny, RUUUUNNNN!" I thought.  
The bunny's eyes widened and its tail shook away liquid as the explosion made its way toward her.  
"Are you peeing? You don't pee out of your tail."  
It turned and ran away from the explosion, but then fell down. Fire engulfed her-  
"Bun bun!"_

"OOF!" a weight woke me up.  
I opened my eyes reluctantly, expecting to see Milly. Frankie's beautiful face greeted me with a broad grin, instead.  
"It's Christmas! Merry Christmas! Get up, get up, get up!"  
"Time?" I groaned.  
"Six in the morning,"  
"Too early,"  
"Noooo, not on Christmas! I made you coffee, drink your coffee, _wake up_!"  
"You talk too happy,"  
"You sleep too happy,"  
"No...I saw a bunny die,"  
Frankie burst out laughing.  
"Not funny...is Milly up?"  
"_Yeah_," he said, giving me an "are you serious?" look.  
I still hadn't told her. I needed to tell her, but I couldn't do it. Even though I knew she trusted me with her life, I just couldn't. She seemed so...content...right now. Not happy...but not fearing for her life every second anymore.  
"Get up!"  
"Okay!" I caved.  
As soon as I closed the door, Milly bounded up to me, wearing a blue dress I'd never seen before, signing _something_. She'd gotten good at signing a few things, but I could never understand any of it.  
"Now, if you were up all night learning to say that...with your hands...you might as well have just played FreeCell, because I can't understand _any _of that,"  
She rolled her eyes and skipped over to the tree.  
Frankie linked arms with me and pulled me close.  
"I love you," he reminded me.  
"I love you, too,"

* * *

After the morning's gift/coffee excitement, Milly sat with Frankie on the couch, falling asleep on his shoulder, watching 10 Things I Hate About You. Frankie always loved watching movies with her since she never talked in the middle of them, and she loved watching with him since he knew which ones to avoid showing her.  
I sat next to Milly and scratched her back, which sent her deeper into her catnap. My heart throbbed a little faster when I saw her mouth move a little, like she was trying to form words. It would be a fucking awesome Christmas present for me if she spoke on Christmas, but I didn't want to get my hopes up just from a little mouth twitch. I mean, a word on Christmas would only happen if my life was a cheesy Hollywood movie.  
A tiny noise escaped her, but it was more like a moan than a word. Her eyes opened slightly, and I saw her look around a little before squeezing them shut again. She mouthed a few more words, but still made no noise as she did so. This went on for several minutes, until she finally slipped into a full sleep.  
I looked at Frankie, who was staring down at her with the same intensity I had felt. He looked up at me and flashed me a grin. I felt a smile play at my lips as well, while I watched him gently slip away from Milly, careful not to wake her as he put her head on a cushion. I got up, too, stretched out her feet, and then followed Frankie into the bedroom.

* * *

**Milly POV**  
I woke a while later, I didn't know exactly how long, and my first thought was about eating chocolate. That was until I heard the screaming. It _almost _sounded like Gerard was in pain...but not quite. No, I assumed Frankie wouldn't be laughing if that were the case.  
I was confused. But I was also scared to interrupt and ask.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: And I'm back! Sorry it took so long. The next one...well, I'm not gonna lie, it might take a while.**

Chapter 14

**Gee POV**  
"You ever wonder if Octopuses are ambidextrous?" Frankie asked me, snuggling closer.  
I burst into laughter.  
"Shut up," he said calmly.  
"Dude!" I exclaimed.  
"What?" he gave me a worried look.  
"I just realized your initials spell FATI,"  
He glared at me. "Thanks, babe. Love you, too."  
"No, seriously-"  
"I'm gonna go find Milly, at least _she_ appreciates me,"  
"Oh, I appreciate you," I said, looking at the clock. "I've been appreciating you for the past hour and a half."  
He grinned at me, and continued putting on his clothes. I followed suit, and went out to see if Milly had woken up. Unfortunately, she had.  
It was almost like she had bipolar disorder...except it was PTSD. But I didn't know PTSD would make her moods change so quickly, although I should have. When I'd left her an hour ago, she'd been sleeping peacefully without even any signs of a nightmare coming. Now she sat on the couch, shaking and crying for no apparent reason.  
"Blue Bell," I pouted. "What's wrong, hun?"  
She didn't even shake her head to respond. I tried to take her hand in mine, but she swatted me away. She opened her mouth again, like she still had something to say but couldn't get it out.  
"Sweetheart," Frankie said, pushing a notepad toward her.  
She didn't notice it until it touched her upper arm, which caused her to scream and shoot up. Frankie dropped the pad and jumped away several feet.  
"Milly, it's okay!" I assured her.  
_Dammit_, I immediately thought. _No, it's not._  
Her breathing sped up and an offended look crossed her face. She shook her head.  
"Milly, it's just - It's just us...hey. Remember? We're not as bad as we try to convince people," I tried to give her a little smile, while I slowly reached my hand out to her.  
She stumbled back onto the coffee table, becoming more and more terrified of us. I mainly tried to figure out what set her off. Frankie picked up the pad again, and started toward her, but then changed his mind and tossed the pad on the couch.  
"All right," he said. "We'll leave you, then."  
_Leave her? What?_  
I aimed to give him a confused glare, which I either didn't achieve or he ignored.  
"Tell us when you're ready," he said, backing up.  
I hesitated, not wanting to leave her alone crying, especially on Christmas, but not seeing a better way this time. Frankie gave me a look that reassured me, though, and I followed him.

* * *

We were only on our bed for ten minutes or so before Milly came in and bounced on, notepad in hand and happy as ever. I sincerely wish I knew what went on in that girl's head.  
"Hey, girly!" I said.  
_When are Mikey and Alicia coming over?_  
"Tomorrow,"  
_Is Lyn-z coming?_  
"Probably,"  
_What about Bobert?_  
She continued asking questions, while Frankie merely smirked an "I told you so" smirk. I tried to glare back, but I couldn't help but feel a little smirk pull at my own lips.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Yeah...sorry I'm taking so long again. Life's just kinda hectic, and my computer trouble's not easing any. Hope this chapter makes up for it!**

Chapter 16

**Milly POV**  
_She's gonna kill you, she's gonna kill you, she's gonna kill you-  
She's not happy-  
They're disappointed-  
You're hurting them, you're hurting them, you're hurting them-  
It's Christmas-  
You're-  
Stop it, why can't-  
Burn it up-  
Christmas, Christmas-_  
"Ah," I whined, hammering my head with my fists.  
I guess disturbing thoughts had to replace my disturbing dreams. But really? Couldn't it wait until after New Years?  
My eyes blurred as tears stung them, and more thoughts about David's sister overwhelmed me. I had to wonder...that fearful kind of wonder, though...what she was like. What would she do? What would she want to do? Could someone survive an attack by her? And...would she be anything like her brother?  
I hated referring to David as a 'brother.' The word 'brother' seemed too humane for someone like him. I always imagined a brother as someone who took care of their siblings, protected them, and would step in as 'the man of the family' if necessary. Not someone who went out on a murderous rampage for no apparent reason.  
But I guess I couldn't know what a brother was really like. I was an only child. Either my parents couldn't or wouldn't have another child, and I really had no idea which. But they loved the child they had - that much I knew. They loved me to death - to their death. And I had no idea if this reaction to the attack would disappoint them. Was I grieving too much or too little? Or was I being ridiculous? I had to stop thinking.  
"Blue Bell," I heard Gerard.  
And my heart broke. He couldn't save me, even if he wanted to. Just like I couldn't save him...even if I wanted to.

* * *

**Mikey POV**  
Christmas excitement had finally ended, and I woke up the next morning to my beautiful, _pregnant _wife. Pregnant and beautiful. Beautiful yet pregnant. Pregnant _yet beautiful_. Just fucking _pregnant_. By _me_. Yeeeaaaaah, we did the nasty!  
"Morning," I said.  
"Morning," Alicia said back, smiling.  
I fingered her stomach.  
"Baby hungry yet?" I asked.  
"Baby hungry," she nodded.  
"Baby ready to go see Uncle Gerard?"  
She nodded again.  
"All right, let's go," I flew out of bed to fix her breakfast.  
Her morning sickness hadn't been so bad lately, so I assumed she could hold whatever I made down. Assumed. But after we got dressed, ate, and were halfway down the road, she said she wasn't feeling well.  
"Did we bring trash bags?" I asked.  
"It's not...that kind of bad," she said. "I don't feel like I'm gonna puke, I just...hurt."  
I slowed down the car, ready to pull over. "Should we-"  
"Nooo, babe, I'm fine. We're going. To Frank's,"  
"You sure?"  
"Positive,"  
Reluctantly, I put more pressure on the accelerator and continued on toward Frank's. Lyn-z was already there when we got there. Milly seemed unnaturally calm, which worried me a little. Normally she's either all over the place, or sobbing her heart out. At least she was still wearing blue.  
"Lyn!" my wife squealed.  
"Alicia!"  
I had no idea why they always acted so thrilled to see each other when the longest absence they ever had from each other was two days. Maybe that's a long time for females who have nothing to do except puke and play bass guitar.  
"Sup, Gee?" I greeted my brother. "What's...uh...what's wrong with Blue Bell?"  
"Nothing, today," he said. "She is acting a little weird, though, isn't she?"  
"Yeah, just..._sitting _there,"  
"Yeah...sitting," Gerard laughed a little. "_God_, sitting's weird."  
"Shut up,"  
"Other Ways are here, let's do this!" I heard Frankie exclaim happily.  
So we drank eggnog, opened presents, laughed about the inane, and talked about the mundane. Everything seemed normal, except Milly. She stared at us calmly, not participating, laughing, or even writing anything down for us to read. Gerard grew more and more concerned about that as time passed, and started to nudge her every now and then and sign something. I still hadn't bothered to learn any sign language, so I didn't know what he was saying to her.  
"Ah," Alicia whispered suddenly.  
Her hand flew to her stomach, and she clutched it in pain.  
"Babe, what's wrong?" I asked.  
The whole room seemed to go quiet as we waited for Alicia to respond.  
"I...don't..."  
Her hand roamed downward. Then, as soon as she pulled it up, I shot up. She looked at me in horror...everyone else gasped.  
Her hand was covered in blood.

* * *

"Please, please, please-"  
"I'm sorry, sir, we can't-"  
"I know, but can you _tell _me something, I need to know _something_, is _she _okay? Is the baby okay?"  
"Sir, _I don't know_, please just sit down-"  
"I _can't_! God_dammit_, don't you people-"  
"Sir,_ all I know_ is that the more you yell, the less we can concentrate on your wife!"  
I slammed my hand on the table, and stormed off. No amount of medicine could calm the rage and fear I felt at that moment. I'd been determined to protect her, but it still failed. _I'd_ failed.  
I sat down on the floor next to Gerard and stared at the floor. His hand covered mine, and then squeezed it supportively.  
"I hate L.A., I hate traffic, I hate doctors, I hate nurses, I hate hospitals, I hate desk people, I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate-"  
"I'm sorry, Mikey," Gerard interrupted me. "And, ya know, the doctors probably are, too. You should't take it out on them."  
"Then who can I take it out on?" I pouted.  
He laughed a little. "An imaginary friend, preferably. I know you must still have one of those."  
"I hate you,"  
"I know you do, but that's too bad, 'cause I loooove _you_!"  
He grabbed me and wrapped me in a rough hug, which I struggled against.  
"You _suck_!"  
"A _lot _of dick," he said with a smirk. "Oh, that reminds me, I need to go tell Frankie about your poor social skills."  
I glared at him, but that only made him smile wider. He left me with merely the walls to amuse myself. I stared at the floor again, waiting for _someone _to tell me _something_. But, five minutes or so after Gerard left, the first person to come was Milly, and obviously _she _couldn't tell me anything. She simply sat next to me, which seemed odd but sweet.  
We waited together, either for Gerard to return or for a doctor to show up. Time passed agonizingly slow for me, every minute felt like an hour. I had nothing to say to Milly and she had nothing to say to me, and that was okay with both of us. Silence was perfectly comfortable with this girl; a rare quality for me to find with someone.  
Finally, a nurse came up to us.  
"Are you Mr. Way?" she asked.  
I nodded.  
"I'm...so sorry, sir...your wife is fine, but...the baby's gone,"  
Though my heart broke, I didn't even scream. That's what I feared the entire time. My body started shaking; I put my hand on my head, as tears welled in my eyes. I hadn't noticed, but the nurse left. Then I felt Milly's tiny hand on my shoulder. Almost by instinct, I hugged her. She hugged me back, and let me cry on her shoulder and hair.  
"I'm sorry, Mikey,"  
I looked up a little. My eyes might still have been blurred, but I could tell I was still alone with Milly.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: ****Whoo! Second update today! But I won't be able to update for quite a while. I have a volunteer program to do. Sorry, won't have a good Christmas unless I make sure 200 poor families do, too.**

Chapter 17

**Gee POV**  
After telling Frankie that Mikey couldn't find anything out, and unintentionally getting into a little make-out session, we both went back to see how Mikey was doing. I froze by the corner, and stopped Frankie as well, when I saw him hugging Milly and crying. Then I heard a little voice - a little girl's voice. The same one I'd heard on the news about seven months ago.  
"I'm sorry, Mikey,"  
Milly. _Milly_.  
Mikey looked up a little, tears still dripping out of his eyes, just as I grabbed Frankie's arm.  
"Did you hear that?"  
"Hear what?"  
"She _spoke_!"  
"Who spoke?"  
"Milly spoke,"  
"Milly _spoke_?"  
"She spoke!"  
"Are you sure?"  
"I'm sure,"  
"How are you sure?"  
"Because she _spoke_!"  
"That...doesn't answer my question,"  
Frankie pushed past me, down the hall toward the pair, and knelt down next to them. I hurried after him, but decided to let him do the talking. For once, at least.  
"Mikey...is she okay?"  
Mikey nodded, but seemed to grief stricken to explain anything.  
"The...the baby? How's the baby?"  
He shook his head and let out a sharp breath, then started sobbing again.  
"Oh, no..." Frankie whispered. "I'm so sorry, Mikey."  
I couldn't decide who to stare at; Milly or Mikey. Not that I could _consciously _decide that at the moment, with my mind flooded in shock. My gaze ended up on my brother, whom we were here for in the first place.  
Eventually he calmed down a bit, and stood up with a determined look on his face.  
"I need to see her,"

~~~~~~~~~~

They said they had to do some tests, to see if there was something that caused the miscarriage. Other than that, they said, Mikey could stay with his wife. After a couple of hours, Mikey let Lyn-z visit with her per Alicia's request. Meanwhile, I stayed with Milly and tried to absorb everything.  
She hadn't said anything since she'd spoken to Mikey. I kinda wondered if she knew I heard her. Or maybe she just didn't want to talk _much_. Like when she first hugged me, she didn't want to _always _touch people. I guess it would've been a little creepy if she did.  
To pass the time, and not pressure Milly to speak, I let her rest her head on my shoulder, and I sung to her.

_If there's a place that I could be,  
Then I'd be another memory,  
Can I be the only hope for you?  
Because you're the only hope for me,  
And if we can't find where we belong,  
We'll have to make it on our own,  
Face all the pain and take it on,  
Because the only hope for me is you alone,_

How would you be,  
Many years after the disasters,  
That we've seen,  
What if we learned,  
Of all the people burning,  
In purifying flame,  
I'll say it's okay,  
I know you can tell,  
And though you can see me smile,  
I still think of the guns they sell,

Her muscles were relaxed enough I figured I might as well try to get her to talk.  
"So...girly," I started. "You getting tired?"  
She only looked at me for a few seconds, then nodded.  
"You want me to take you home, or you wanna stay here a little longer?"  
She nodded again.  
"Yes you wanna stay here or yes you wanna go home?"  
Her mouth twitched a little.  
"I stay a little longer," she murmured.  
I smiled at her and rubbed her back.  
"Gee," I heard Lyn. "They're letting more people see her at once."  
Milly and I both stood up, and headed toward Alicia's room.


	18. Chapter 18

**Lyn POV**  
"What did I do?" Alicia sobbed.  
"Honey, you did everything the doctors told you, it's not your fault," I assured her.  
"How did it happen, then?" she squeaked. "Something went wrong- I did something wrong."  
"_No_, no you didn't. Things like this happen in the best circumstances. You can't always control-"  
"No, something happened,"  
Now she was just being stubborn. I knew it was hard on her, but she didn't have to _insist_ on blaming herself.  
"Mikey was right!" she bawled. "He was fucking right! I swear, if I ever try this again, I should just live in the fucking hospital, because I'm too stupid to carry anything inside of me by myself-"  
"_Hey_, stop. You fucking know it's not your fault, stop blaming yourself,"  
"But something happened," she said. "Something happened. Something killed my baby."  
I wrapped her in a hug, not bothering to argue.  
"I'm sorry, Alicia,"  
"I wanna see Mikey again,"  
"Okay...okay. I'll bring him in,"

* * *

**Milly POV**  
Virginia stared at me with wide eyes, then smiled.  
"You really are making amazing progress, Milly," she said. "So how was your Christmas?"  
"Weird," I said, almost squirming at the sound of my own voice.  
After seven months or so of not talking, I was still having trouble getting used to the feel of my throat vibrating with every word I spoke. But, for some reason, it seemed harder for everyone else to get used to than it was for me.  
Out of habit, Gerard always carried a pad with him where ever we went. Whenever he needed to ask me something, he'd start to hand it to me, then laugh to himself and take it back. Everytime I spoke, Gerard and Frank's eyes always got wider, then shrunk back once they remembered the events of the past week.  
"How was it weird?"  
"Well...first of all...the day after, Gerard's sister-in-law had a miscarriage,"  
"Oh, that's terrible,"  
"Yeah...and before Christmas I found out...the...guy who...attacked...my family...um...he- he has a sister,"  
Her eyes glanced above my head, like she was deciding what to say.  
"How...does that bother you? I mean...does that upset you?"  
"It...it scares me," I said. "She has the same blood as him. I mean...I don't have a sibling, but I would think siblings would be a lot alike."  
"So...you're scared she may come after you like he did,"  
"Well...yeah,"  
"Because she may be like her brother?"  
"Yeah,"  
"That's not always true, though," she said. "In fact, most siblings are polar opposites. Is your guardian anything like his sibling?"  
"No...but they're not..._them_,"  
"No, they're not,"  
"And siblings can be a lot alike,"  
"Yes, but chances are that siblings won't be very much alike,"  
I tried to consider that, but something else was nagging me.  
"But the chances of the events that happened in the first place weren't very good, either. I mean...I think a pair of siblings having similar mental problems is a greater possibility than David attacking me was,"  
Virginia blinked, and looked a little concerned. Like I'd finally made her at loss for comforting words.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: SORRY! Another revision!**

**Gee POV**  
Milly came out of the room where she and Virginia were talking. I ripped out Virginia's check, stood up, and handed it to her.  
"Hey, Milly, why don't you wait by the car?" I asked, though I still felt nervous about leaving her alone with my car.  
She nodded and headed outside. I turned back toward Virginia.  
"She doesn't need her pad anymore," I said, smiling at the familiarity of any pad of paper automatically being labelled 'hers'.  
"She is making a _lot_ of progress," she agreed.  
I sighed, only half-believing that.  
"But she still plays those...games,"  
"That's...that's normal. That's play reenactment,"  
"What's that?"  
"She's coming up with games that have bits and pieces that represent the trauma. Not just the actual event, but the emotions involved with it. Maybe something she plays doesn't seem to have anything to do with the actual event, but the idea of it...maybe the lack of logic behind it...maybe being in the midst of something so _bizarre_...is...really what she's reenacting,"  
"So...they're bizarre just to be bizarre?"  
"Possibly. Is she coming up with games that are less bizarre and...more dark?"  
"Not...often,"  
She paused, and then nodded.

* * *

I had to tell her. I had to tell her, but it would make her worse. But I had no choice, anyway. It's like Frankie said, the first time we got lucky...that couldn't possibly happen again, and I'd be an idiot to try it.  
We got back to the house, to find Mikey laying under one of his forts with a blank expression on his face. For the first time, Milly didn't run under the fort to join him in his game. He looked at her and gave her a sad smile, which she returned.  
"Hey, Mike," I said. "Where's...Alicia?"  
"With Lyn," he said, not looking at me.  
Frankie sat on the couch, looking at Mikey with a sad expression on his face. I sighed.  
"Milly...we need to talk,"  
She looked up at me with a terrified expression, but nodded. I led her into the master bedroom and sat down on the bed with her.  
"Am I gonna have to go back?" she asked. "I know there's supposed to be a three-strikes rule."  
"What? No, girly. You've been fine. I just..."  
She still looked scared.  
_Life sucks. It might as well suck honestly._  
"I think I should really tell you...about Carrie,"  
She swallowed, and her expression turned from simply _scared_ to _petrified_.  
"She doesn't have the same thing David did. But she is schizophrenic,"  
Milly didn't say anything.  
"She's...also in town,"  
Her expression kept changing, between terror and despair.  
"Girly, I'm sure she doesn't mean any harm,"  
"But she asked why you weren't arrested for taking me in," she said in a small, heartbroken voice.  
She was listening to that conversation? How much had she heard? And what did we even say?  
"So you were eavesdropping on that?"  
She nodded.  
"She was mad. At you,"  
"Yes. She was,"  
Not for that reason, but she was.  
"Why? Why was taking me in wrong?"  
I couldn't tell another lie. I desperately, desperately wanted to. But I couldn't.  
"That's not what she was mad about," I said.  
"What was she mad about? What did you do?"  
I swallowed, feeling my heart start to beat considerably faster.  
"You know I told you he died of a heart attack?"  
She nodded.  
"He didn't,"  
She let out a horrified gasp, and immediately began to sob.  
"He _is_ dead, though!" I assured her, wondering why I hadn't started telling her this a different way. "He's dead! Just not of a heart attack!"  
"What...happened...then?" she asked through the remnants of her sobs.  
"Frankie killed him,"  
She let out a few more gasps but overall seemed to calm down, and even seemed interested.  
"How?"  
"David...escaped his cell somehow. That's why I took you to see Eliza, because no one would expect it. He couldn't find you there,"  
I finally blurted nearly the whole thing out to her, though halfway through it I had to look down on the bed in order to hide from her tortured expression. I didn't tell her he tied me up, though. I didn't tell her he shot Frankie, or broke my leg. In fact, I guess by avoiding that...I _still_ lied to her. The closest I came to those details was telling her he broke into Frankie's house...and he simply shot him.  
"You lied," she said.  
I nodded, feeling tears well up.  
"Not just after it happened. You knew it was happening,"  
I nodded again.  
"I didn't want you...to be scared. I wanted to keep it from you until I knew he was...gone," I said, tears falling down my cheeks.  
"Kinda like you didn't want to tell me I had to testify," she said. "You wanted to wait until the last second to put me on the spot, and then just watch."  
I'd never seen her filled with such cold fury. I almost wanted the violent Milly back. The one that would simply slap me when she got angry, and then walk away. I could handle that. But this felt more in depth than that. I needed luck to come up with a response that would calm her down now.  
"No!" I said. "Milly. It was already going to take you years to start to just _function_ well enough again. I didn't want that progress to stop."  
"And what if it didn't work? What if he _had_ found me? If you wanted to keep me from him, you should have just told me to run. At least then I can prepare myself,"  
"You're right. Okay? I shouldn't have done it the way I did. And I'm sorry,"  
"Frankie knew," she realized. "Everyone knew."  
"Blue Bell..."  
She finally crumpled, and started sobbing again. I tried to reach over and comfort her, but she shoved me away, jumped off the bed, and ran.


	20. Chapter 20

**Frank POV**  
Mikey stared at the floor, refusing to move, speak, or look at me. I wondered if he had gone off his meds in his grief, but I didn't want to think he had.  
Just like Carrie.  
For the first time in a while, Mikey's bipolar disorder really hit me. Could he be just as dangerous as Carrie or David? Well...no...he loved his family and friends too much to _try_ to do anything to hurt them. But, still, bipolar disorder is extremely similar to schizophrenia. I remembered calling Carrie's schizophrenia a perfect excuse to kill people...but how could I have said that? How could I, even _mentally_, support that misconception? People say the exact same thing about Mikey, and I know perfectly well that it's all bullshit.  
"She thinks she ate too many oranges," Mikey finally said. "Because she was craving them. And they have a lot of Vitamin C...or something. So oranges can cause miscarriages. I don't think that was it, though. I don't think oranges can cause miscarriages. She just wants a reason."  
"I don't blame her. I would want a reason," I said.  
Just then, the door to my room slammed shut. I saw Milly run from there, down to her room and slam her own door shut. Mikey's head shot up, while I got up from the couch and darted to my room. Gerard stared at the bed, like his brother had stared at the floor, and cried.  
"What happened?" I asked, though I should have known.  
"What I told you would happen," he said, voice breaking. "I told her the truth, and now she's pissed. She's pissed at all of us. She's scared, pissed, and betrayed."  
"Babe, you had to," I said, sitting down next to him. "She was gonna find out one way or another. And now she knows about Carrie. Now you only lied _once_."  
"But she just started talking, and now she won't ever talk to me again,"  
"She will," I assured him, taking his hand in mine. "Eventually, she'll realize you were trying to protect her. She'll be thankful. Maybe in a week, maybe in a year. But she'll forgive you."  
He smiled at me. I wiped his tears away with my sleeves.  
"I dunno. Maybe her therapist can convince her of that," he said.  
"Hopefully. Should I go start the process now?"  
"Well, she's pissed at you, too,"  
"Yeah, well..."  
Call it instinct or experience, but suddenly an eerie creeped up in me. Quickly it became more than a feeling, and turned into a fact. Milly had just done something.  
"I'm gonna go check on her," I said, stumbling off the bed.  
I sensed Gerard following me, but my focus had gone elsewhere. I knocked on Milly's door. She didn't answer, which made me nervous.  
"Milly!"  
No response.  
"Milly, open the door!"  
Nothing.  
"Milly, I'm not an invalid, I _have_ a key," I said, hearing my voice shake. "If you don't open the door, I'll open it for you. I might even take it away. I _can_ take your door away. It'll be like Freaky Friday with our personalities already switched!"  
Not even a confused noise.  
I yanked the key off the top of her door and shoved it in the doorknob. Unfortunately, I didn't open the door in slow motion like I would have in a movie. I didn't have that much time filled with hope. I just had the split second where my heart didn't beat, and then the heart attack when I saw nobody hiding behind the door.  
Milly had run away. Again.  
I looked at Gerard, and he looked at me. He looked more annoyed than surprised. 

* * *

**Milly POV**  
It's not running away when you pack for it, is it? Because I packed. Is it running away when you plan on never coming back? Because I was never going back.  
In those few seconds between Frank's room and mine, I'd had it all figured out. Since Gerard didn't tell me anything, I wasn't going to tell him anything. Including where I was going, whether I was coming back, and if he would ever see me again.  
I was going back to Oklahoma, and I would completely forget about him, Frank, and everyone else for the rest of my life. I'd make a living as a mime, or American Sign Language teacher...I couldn't decide. Until then, hopefully I could pull off giving puppy dog looks for food and water and sleeping between mattresses in a Costco's warehouse.  
I didn't need Gerard. And I knew it would be permanent. Mainly because, whenever I had run away, I had either gone to one of his friends or I hadn't planned _anything_. I'd planned this.  
And he would never see me again.


	21. Chapter 21

**Gee POV**  
She'd packed. I could tell because her bedside table looked a lot cleaner. Specifically, her pad on her beside table had gone missing. Yet, the only thing I took from that was that she'd gone back to being mute. This time willingly.  
It didn't take the cops long to find her. Mainly, I guess, because five seconds after we had reported her missing, someone else had reported a small girl dressed in all blue picking eggplants from their garden.  
"I wonder how analytic she thinks she is," Frank said as we walked into the police station. "Stealing unripe fruit isn't exactly the best way to avoid being seen."  
I started tuning him out, though, as soon as I saw Milly slumped on a bench with a defeated look on her face. But when I tried to go over to her, a short woman blocked my way. I tried to give Milly a harsh glare, then turned my attention to the woman, who looked unusually patient.  
"Are you Gerard?" she asked me.  
"Yes,"  
She looked at Frankie.  
"And you're his partner?" she asked.  
He nodded, clearly not used to the term "partner."  
"I'm April, from Social Services. Can I speak with the two of you alone?"  
_Oh, shit,_ I thought as I nodded. _Maybe there really is a three-strikes rule._  
She led us into a private room and offered us a seat, while she herself remained standing.  
"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I know this looks bad, but she has PTSD and I set her off - I really didn't know she was gonna-"  
"Relax," she said with a smile. "I'm not here to blame you for anything. Do you remember all the guidelines we provided you when you signed up to be Milly's foster parent?"  
I swallowed.  
"No. I didn't _really_ read them, I just assumed it was like real parenting-"  
"God," I heard Frankie whisper beside me.  
I looked over at him, and saw his eyes squeezed shut. He thought I was an idiot.  
"Bein' honest. Like you fuckin' told me," I said bitterly.  
"Not the right time to be honest,"  
"I'd rather pretend the two of you didn't just have that exchange," April said.  
"We would rather pretend that, too," Frankie said.  
April sighed and paused for a bit.  
"I have to tell you, Gerard," she said.  
My heart rose in my throat, as I got a sickening feeling of what was coming.  
"I know you care about Milly. I could tell as soon as you walked in that you care. But based on the frequency of these episodes, I don't think you're as equipped to handle her as you want to be,"  
I could feel my blood run cold.  
"You wanna take her away?" I finally managed to ask.  
She thought about how to answer that for a moment.  
"I want to give her the option of living with someone who has more experience in cases like hers,"  
I couldn't respond. After having taken care of her for seven months or so, I didn't want to lose her. The idea nearly broke my heart.  
"Gee," Frankie murmured beside me. "Maybe it would be a good idea."  
I stared at him.  
"Can I talk to him alone?" Frank asked April.  
She nodded, and turned to leave.  
"There's probably a two-sided mirror in here," he half joked, half warned.  
I tried to smile, not in the mood to laugh.  
"Gee...it would be good for her," he said quietly. "No...it would be _perfect_ for her. We can't handle her. Most importantly...she can't handle us."  
I noticed the look in his eyes, and realized he was asking me to read between the lines.  
"She might do better with someone who...doesn't feel the need to _protect her_ so much."  
I swallowed, still unable to completely think through the entire thing. I couldn't figure out if it would be a permanent thing, or, even if it wasn't permanent, how long it would last. I didn't know if foster parents ever got a second chance.  
But I started to realize I probably didn't have a choice. So, as tears started to fall down my face, I nodded. Frankie gave me a pathetic smile, clearly dreading this decision as much as me.  
"I'll get the social worker," he said. 

* * *

April had to ask Milly, if only to make her feel like she had a choice. Milly glared at me and nodded. Her lack of hesitance hurt me a little, but I kept telling myself she was simply letting her emotions cloud her judgement. She didn't _really_ want to leave me. Not for good, at least. She felt angry, and after a while she'd get over it.  
That's what I _told_ myself. That's what I told myself when she wouldn't hug me, look at me, or even say goodbye. Still, while leaving the station without her, I couldn't help but feel crushed. I spent seven months on her, and at that point I didn't know why.


	22. Chapter 22

It took a few days for me to want to get out of bed again. Despite the fact that I should have felt relieved because Milly was at least out of Carrie's reach, I still felt depressed over how it happened. Frankie kept prodding me, telling me something about looking for a replacement drummer. He and the other guys ended up having to start reviewing people without me. Eventually, though, Frankie managed to drag me out of bed and force me to sit down in front of the computer.  
"I don't want-"  
"I know you don't," he kissed my forehead. "But you need to. And this is _mind-numbing_. It'll keep your focus on something else."  
"Mind-numbing?"  
"Yeah. They suck at drums. They really shouldn't be trying out and embarrassing themselves...but they sent videos, anyway,"  
"If you guys have already decided they suck, why do I have to watch?"  
"So that you can tell us we're wrong," he smiled.  
"Oh, _there's_ the sarcasm I missed,"  
"I prefer to think of it as _sass_,"  
"Thank you, Frankie," I said.  
He kissed me, and then turned back toward the kitchen to make coffee.  
The guys were right, too. They all sucked so far. At first it was funny, but then I got sad...because I didn't care. I really didn't.  
Then Frank opened the front door. I hadn't heard the doorbell, so I thought he was just going to check the mail. Then I heard Jamia's voice, which was honestly the _last_ thing I wanted to hear. Mainly, I guess, I was scared she'd ask more questions like "you mean she's gone for good?" Not to mention a discussion about Carrie.  
"How is he?" I heard her ask.  
I guess that counts as _concern_ instead of _thoughtlessness_. Dammit.  
"Better," Frankie said. "He's looking at the talentless drummer candidates."  
"Aw, that's good,"  
"I can hear you!" I yelled childishly.  
"You act like we're saying bad things about you," Frankie said.  
"You're about to," I said with a pout.  
"Oh, grow up," he said.  
"I'm going back to bed,"  
"No, you're not,"  
"What else do I have to do?" I asked cynically. "I have no midget to teach, no music to make, and no more drummers to laugh at."  
"We have dogs you could walk,"  
"Their shit would remind me of myself,"  
"God, would you _quit_ that?"  
"Sorry,"  
"Errands?"  
"We have peanut butter. That's all we need,"  
"Shopping of _any_ sort,"  
"Spending money to relieve stress is a _terrible_ practice,"  
"You wanna draw?"  
"I draw sad things now,"  
"Play Wii?"  
"The controller's dead,"  
"_Fine_! Go back to bed,"  
"Hmm...there _is_ something I could do," I murmured seductively.  
"I should just turn right back around...and go home," Jamia said.  
Frankie smirked.  
"That might be a good idea," he said. 

* * *

We laid in bed for a while, not saying anything. We didn't _need_ to say anything at that point. But then I smelled something. Specifically, something burning.  
"Do you smell that?" Frankie asked me.  
"Yeah,"  
He waited a few seconds, like he was trying to pinpoint what it was. Then I saw his eyes get wide, and he jumped out of bed. I followed suit, and started putting my clothes on. Once we ran out of the bedroom, I heard it.  
"Holy shit!" Frank exclaimed.  
The coffee table, in the middle of the living room, was on fire.  
I immediately looked around for the culprit, while Frank looked around for a phone. I saw no one, but I did see that the window into the living room was gone. Not broken, or open...someone _took the window_.  
I tapped Frank's shoulder as he started dialing, and pointed at it.  
"What?" he murmured, gaze flickering around a little bit before settling on what I was pointing toward. "_How the fuck did she do that_?"  
_She_. Clearly Frankie had already beat me to the next place in my train of thought. _Carrie_.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Also, youtube .com/watch?v=Q46SURotwlI**

**Milly POV**  
I'd thought they would give me someone new. Someone I had never met before. That thought made me nervous...but then I found out I was going back to the lady that had taken me in before. That thought _freaked. Me. Out._  
I'd wanted to go back to Oklahoma, just not back to her. Just not_ever...back to her_. In fact, the idea _almost_ made me want to go back to California. _Almost_. At least I knew this woman wouldn't bother lying to me. At least, about something like David. Or Carrie.  
It amazed me that _everyone_ knew. It would be one thing if Gerard had been the only one, but they _all_ betrayed me. Even Jamia, and she didn't even know me that long.  
Everything blurred after I left the police station. The red eye flight the social worker took me on. Landing in Oklahoma. The car ride to the lady's house. It all passed so quickly to me that I didn't even have time to think about it. Of course, it had to have been several hours. But as soon as the door to my former "home" opened up, I wished it had been longer.  
"Milly?" the obnoxious country accent greeted me. "Aw, you're here late."  
I nodded.  
"I'm sorry," the social worker said. "Los Angeles doesn't have many flights to Oklahoma, and the first one we could get was-"  
"That's alright," she turned to me, and immediately started patronizing me. "I bet you're tired. Do you want to go to bed? Would that be nice?"  
I felt tempted to give her a gesture that I'd seen Frankie give a few times...but in knowing that Frankie would do it, I didn't. I simply nodded, and went inside. She and April exchanged a few words, and then my temporary guardian closed the door and turned toward me.  
"You remember where your room is," she said.  
And with that, she left me and went back to bed.  
I sighed and darted to my room, bags in hand. Despite not having been there for several months, I knew I should have locked my door. I knew my arrival had waken Ricardo. And I knew he didn't like for his routine to be messed up. I forgot what put him in foster care, but I remembered he had autism and pica. A horrible combination.  
Sure enough, he came bursting into my room as soon as I put my bags down.  
"Are you Milly Walker?" he asked, rocking on his feet.  
I nodded.  
"Your parents got killed," he said.  
I knew it wasn't his fault, because his autism took away any empathy he might have had, but I slapped him anyway. He shrieked and started crying. Our foster parent came in to see what happened, and glared at me.  
"_Milly_! What did you do?"  
I stared at her, willing myself not to talk.  
"What, do you still not talk?" she asked. "_Tell me_! Or apologize!"  
I shook my head and pointed at Ricardo.  
"She. Hit me," he sobbed.  
I shook my pointing hand at him to reinforce my position.  
She pushed Ricardo out the door and turned back toward me.  
"No breakfast for you!" she screamed.  
I nearly told her that I wouldn't want what she cooked, anyway...but I held myself back. Maybe he spoiled me, but...Gerard never handled my hitting like that.

* * *

**Frank POV**

"She burnt my coffee table...and she took my window," I said, nearly unable to process what had happened. "Who the fuck even _thinks_ of that?"  
"I dunno," Gee said, staring at the still smoking coffee table.  
A firefighter looked around the window frame and shook his head.  
"Um...well...she didn't do it right," he said.  
"Why do I care if she did it _right_? She _did it_,"  
"She didn't take the indoor trim off before using the saw," he clarified.  
"Of _course_ she didn't come inside!"  
"Well, no, she did," he corrected me. "I mean, she set your coffee table on fire. She had to have come inside for that."  
"_Clearly_," I said.  
"That's...probably why she took the window off," Gerard said. "To come inside...to set your coffee table on fire."  
He raised an eyebrow and shook his head.  
"But why did she _take_ the window?" I asked, as the firefighter went outside to look around.  
"Maybe it had fingerprints on it that she wanted to hide," Gee suggested.  
"Maybe," I said. "Maybe she wants to build a home here to screw with us and she needed a window, and she figured who better to steal it from than the person who killed her brother."  
He actually seemed to think about that.  
"That snarkiness _does_ bring up a question, though...where has she been staying?"  
My blood ran cold. It would be just like us to have a mass murderer's sister under our house without even knowing it. Which is a strange level of stupidity to identify yourself on.  
I leaned out the hole in my wall to look for the fireman.  
"Hey, uh...did you check under the house?"  
"Yep...nothing there but an angry cat,"  
I heard Gerard laughing.  
"What?" I asked him.  
"Under the house, Frankie?" he asked. "I was thinking more along the lines of an abandoned house."  
"Like yours," I realized.  
He swallowed, no longer so amused, and nodded.


	24. Chapter 24

**Gee POV**

_I'll keep you safe tonight,  
Move your body when the sunlight dies,  
Everybody hide your body from the scarecrow,_  
For once, Frank didn't look happy with my singing. He only got more nervous as I sung, and his hands began to shake as he turned the steering wheel. I stopped singing, even if it made me more nervous _not_ to sing.  
We pulled up a few houses down from my house. Panic set in, and a few tears leaked from my eyes. Images flashed through my mind, and guilt for several bodies hit me. My healed leg tingled a little, like _it_ could remember what had happened there.  
I looked over at Frankie, and I knew he didn't want to drive any closer. Whether it was because of past events...or a possible future event...I couldn't tell. I simply took his hand and squeezed it, trying to let him know it was okay to turn back.  
After my own panic died down a little, I realized the social worker was _dead_ wrong. _No one_ was more equipped to handle Milly than I was. Because I went through what she went through. I had seen death, and felt the sickening inability to do anything to stop it. I'd been tortured...I'd seen people I love tortured...and I'd felt an inevitability of death. No one they would put her with could say that.  
Frankie's hand became clammy, and I saw a tear fall from his eye.  
"Why do I feel bad...for what I did?" he asked. "I didn't before. I don't think I processed it before. It was a survival instinct. But now I can finally see us back there. And I feel bad...when I shouldn't."  
"Because you're human," I said. "And you're _humane_. You never wanted to kill anyone...but you had to. Someone had to. You killed _him_ to save yourself...and me...and Mikey...and Milly...you saved a lot of people, Frankie. A lot of _good_ people."  
"I know," he said, voice breaking. "I just hope...I don't have to do it again."  
We stayed silent for a moment.  
"You won't have to," I decided.  
"But what if...she..."  
"If it comes to that...give me the gun...and I'll pull the trigger,"  
He half laughed, a few more tears falling down his face.  
"Gerard...what makes you think it'll be so _clean cut_?"  
"If she takes you, she'll take me...psychological torment doesn't work any other way...and you know she's gonna want to fuck with our heads,"  
"She already is,"  
I let go of his hand and wiped a single tear off his cheek. He smiled at me with eyes still full of tears. I leaned over and softly pressed my lips against his, bringing my other hand to his other cheek. He shifted in his seat to face me better, and kissed back. I felt his hand gently touch my chest, while I ran my hand through his hair.  
He broke apart from me suddenly, but stayed only a couple of inches from my face.  
"Gerard?" he asked.  
"Yeah?"  
"Your lips are slimy,"  
I giggled.  
"That's because you cried on them,"  
"Well you kissed me while I was crying, so you deserved it,"  
"True dat...true dat,"  
He shook his head and sighed contently, then turned back toward the wheel.  
"Should we go back?" he asked.  
"No...one crazy bitch isn't gonna keep me from going back to my house," I said. "Onward, Fun Ghoul."  
"Roger that, Party Poison,"  
"Why Roger? Why not George?"  
"I don't know. How are there negative numbers?"  
"I don't know,"  
"Both questions of life's mysteries,"  
"We will never know,"

* * *

I stalled going inside by fumbling with my keys. Frankie waited patiently, baseball bat in hand. He didn't say anything, but he knew what I was doing.  
As soon as I opened the door, I jumped back. Nothing came at me, though, so I edged my way inside. Frankie followed me, looking just as scared as I felt. My gaze darted around, but I didn't find anything. I figured she would have come out of hiding as soon as I opened the door, but we searched the house anyway. The only thing we found was another missing window.  
"She didn't burn anything...change anything...or leave anything...but she was here," I said. "To do what?"  
It almost seemed colder inside than it felt outside. The silence and emptiness of the house put me on edge. I vaguely heard a creaking sound, and forced myself to look for the source. The noise had no source, which reminded me that my house made noises when the temperature changed. It still sent my heart into overdrive.  
"We only looked inside-"  
"We're not going in the backyard,"  
Frank bit his lip, clearly on the same page.  
"Okay," he agreed. "We have proof that she might be staying here. That's good enough. Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: Four chapters yesterday, one today...at this rate, I'll have this story finished by the end of the week. Well...it is the end of the week. By the end of _a_ week, then.**

**I forgot to say, I saw MCR live the other day. Where has my head gone? Of course I have to mention that in a fan-fic about them. I also have to mention Gerard's slimy lips.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Mikey POV**  
"Try it again," Alicia said.  
I flicked the switch and, even after replacing the light bulb, the light still didn't come on. Alicia let out an angry growl and chucked the empty light bulb box in the trash.  
"It's probably the circuit breaker," I said, not in the mood to yell. "I'll check."  
I went out into the garage, even though I knew my irritation may cause me to _break_ the circuit breaker. I opened the cover, and realized I had _no fucking clue_ what to do. But despite my uncertainty, I flipped a switch down and back up.  
"That was it!" I heard Alicia. "It's back on!"  
"Finally!"  
I sighed and, still slightly irritated, turned to go back inside. And then something caught my eye. Something wooden, leaning against our tool box, that I didn't think was there before. I froze and looked at it a little closer.  
"Alicia! Come out here and tell me I'm not hallucinating! If I am, this is a fucked up thing to hallucinate!"  
"What is it?" she asked, appearing beside me.  
"Windows," I said.  
An eerie feeling came over me. I knew I had to call Gerard.  
"No...you're not hallucinating," she said. "Why do we have extra windows?"  
"I don't think those are extras," I said, pulling my phone out.  
She watched with a concerned expression as I dialed Gerard's number.  
"Hello?" he answered the phone.  
"Did you check your house, too?" I asked.  
"Yeah," he said. "She was there."  
"Why am I the only one not missing a window?"  
"What? I guess she hasn't been there-"  
"She has,"  
Dead silence on the other end.  
"Why would we be missing a window?" Alicia asked.  
"That's how she's getting inside," I told her, feeling my heart stop.  
I looked around the garage even though I knew if she had intended to hurt me, she would have done so already.  
"That's how who is getting inside?" Alicia asked, eyes widening.  
"Carrie,"  
"Carrie," Gerard repeated.  
"Yes, _Carrie_, Gerard. How is she getting in my house? What about my house is so different that makes her think the windows don't function?"  
"I dunno...I don't-"  
"Did you tell the police about her when she set Frank's coffee table on fire?"  
"Yes! Of course I did!"  
"Are they doing anything?"  
"I don't know! Mikey, look...this is freaking me out, too. You don't think this is freaking me out?"  
"I didn't say that-"  
"She wanted us to know she'd been here," I heard Frank. "She could be quick and obvious with a window. She didn't want to do something quick and obvious with Mikey-"  
"Because she's still in the house," I realized.  
Alicia grabbed my arm, and tried to pull me back inside.  
"I gotta go, Gee," I said, hanging up halfway through my sentence.  
While Alicia grabbed two knives from the drawer, I dialed 911. She handed me a butcher's knife just as the operator answered. Halfway through my conversation with the operator, I realized just how long it may take for anyone to show up. In a city like L.A., the police have a lot to do.  
"I'll check upstairs," I told Alicia, after hanging up.  
She gave me a look like she didn't want me to leave her alone, but reluctantly turned away from me to start looking around. Also reluctant, I ran up the stairs and checked up and down the hallway. I went in one room, knife poised, looked in every corner and closet, and found nothing. I checked another room just as thoroughly, and still didn't find her. My anxiety had reached its peak by that point. Then I heard a blood curdling scream.  
"Alicia!"  
I bolted down the stairs and to her side, just as the back door slammed shut.  
"She left," Alicia murmured.  
"She's still on our property, though," I said.  
I followed Carrie, but couldn't find her in my backyard or either of my neighbors' backyards. She was a quick little bitch. So quick it made me wonder if it was the first time she'd been in my house. 

* * *

**Milly POV**  
"You got money for me, kid?" my new therapist said.  
I handed her a check, a little surprised that was the first thing she said to me.  
"Okay," she said, taking the piece of paper. "Talk."  
Suddenly I felt _extremely_ uncomfortable. This therapist seemed a lot harsher than Virginia. And she didn't even look at me before she started taking notes.  
I started writing on a pad I brought with me.  
_About what?_  
She sighed heavily, like she didn't want to have to read anything.  
"I don't know," she said. "It's _your_ therapy."  
_Okay...um...Gerard?_  
"Who's he?"  
I tried to write down my thoughts as fast as I could, but she still looked impatient.  
_My last foster parent. He lied to me,_  
"Honey, that doesn't surprise me. Any foster kid that comes to me has problems with their foster parents. You're gonna have to get used to it. In fact, any other foster kid will tell you not to talk about your former foster parents,"  
Don't talk about it. I'd never heard that before. Especially out of a therapist. As soon as I heard her say that, I knew if there was one thing I'd ever miss about California it would be my old therapist.


	26. Chapter 26

It surprised me how quickly they put me with another foster parent. I thought they went down a list, putting kids who'd been waiting the longest in with someone first. It took a month for them to put me with Gerard, but only a week and a half to put me with this woman.  
The first thing they told me was that they had four other foster children, as if that should have made me feel better. Apparently they could be my _best friends_. That didn't interest me, though.  
The woman told me to call her Miss Corey, even though I knew her last name was Evans. At least, that was her husband's last name. She didn't have an accent, like my interim foster parent. That, at least, made me happy. But she seemed just as strict, and just as likely to treat me like an invalid. Specifically when we went out in public.  
See, apparently word had gotten around that I was an escape artist. She didn't want to get into any trouble, so, not only did she lock all the doors and windows, she always handcuffed my wrist to her belt whenever we went out. Since I never spoke, she knew I'd never say anything about it to her or anyone else. Of course, this time I _could_ have spoken up...so I wondered why I didn't.  
I started having trouble with this woman when I started needing a bra. As soon as I realized that, I broke down and cried. I remembered Mom talking about how she couldn't wait to take me out shopping for a bra (which I bet she wouldn't have done with handcuffs). That might seem like a weird conversation to get into with your mother, but I think most mothers get excited about that. And I knew Miss Corey wouldn't get nearly that excited about it.  
I didn't know anything about looking for bras, and I felt like she'd expect me to. So I decided, until she noticed, I'd pretend not to notice anything. The problem was...she noticed. And she got mad.  
"Milly!" she exclaimed. "Go put on a bra! I know your boobs are still tiny, but you gotta keep 'em from-"  
I scrambled for something to write with.  
_I don't have one,_  
She gave a heavy, irritated sigh.  
"Get the handcuffs, then,"  
I tried to write my protests, but she took the piece of paper away.  
"I don't have time for this, go get the handcuffs!"  
I reluctantly went and found the handcuffs, and gave them to her. After she told her husband where we were going, she grabbed my hand tightly and drug me to the car, making sure to put my seat belt on for me before she ran around to the driver's side.  
She really felt terrified of me doing something wrong.  
The entire ride, I thought back to when Gerard took me to get stuff for my _other_ sign of adolescence. He, at least, had no idea what to do, either. He just got one of every type of pad.  
But, I reminded myself, he was bad. He was a bad person. Doing it that way must have been wrong, I told myself. Although, I couldn't figure out why it would be wrong. Any guy would have done it that way, if only to get out of the feminine hygiene section quicker.  
I unbuckled myself and refrained from jumping out of the car as she put it in park, then waited for her to run around to my side of the car and handcuff me.  
_This has to count as child abuse,_ I thought as the cold metal enclosed my wrist.  
She drug me into the store, into the intimates section, and forced my gaze on a rack of bras. I sighed heavily, and picked one out I thought would fit. Then, as she continued shoving me in all directions, I saw the kids section. I saw a small girl, picking out a pink dress and looking up at her mother with puppy dog eyes.  
"Mama? Can I have this?"  
"Sure, sweetie. But you gotta try it on first,"  
_I wonder if she's an only child, too,_ I thought, tears already coming to my eyes.  
I'd had it. I started wailing like I hadn't wailed in almost four years. I was sick of my life. Sick of missing my parents, sick of being a foster child, sick of fearing for my life, and sick of feeling guilty for going through all of that. But Miss Corey didn't understand that.  
"Hush! What is _wrong_ with you, child? We. Are. In. _Public_. Shut up!" she tried whispering to me, but it clearly still came out louder than she wanted it to.  
She looked around, at everyone watching. No one asked anything, and she didn't volunteer anything. She simply grabbed my hair with one hand and the bra I was carrying with the other hand, and jerked me toward the front of the store to pay.  
Still, I never stopped crying. The wailing stopped, but my crying continued. The cashier looked at me like she felt sorry for me, but she didn't do anything. She probably felt stuck between thinking I was just throwing a fit because I didn't get something I wanted, and thinking something else was wrong. Little did she know just how much else was wrong. 

* * *

I blamed Gerard. I blamed him for making me feel so bad. I just didn't know how to get back at him, especially since he wasn't even around. I didn't even know what would piss him off. He wasn't like most foster parents, clearly. Cursing didn't upset him, glares only seemed to amuse him. He rarely showed me when he got angry. Except that time when I watched Youtube videos of him getting drunk.  
Maybe that was it. Frankie had said he felt sensitive about the alcohol issue. He got angry when people thought drunken behavior was funny. But did _I_ want to get drunk? Was _that_ really the conclusion I had come to? Apparently so, since I found a way to sneak down to the refrigerator once everyone had gone to bed. I knew Mr. Evans drank. I also knew he'd be pissed if he found his beer missing. But I remembered how Frankie could always drink enough water to sober himself up. I figured I could do the same, and he wouldn't ever know it was me. Especially since two of his five foster children were teenage boys.  
I could _totally_ get away with it.


	27. Chapter 27

Since I didn't have any idea how much I would need, I took several cans out. My heart raced a little at the idea of getting drunk - and not in the good way. I went ahead and opened one, and then took a sip. Immediately, I started to reconsider beer as a spite tactic.  
It made me want to _puke_. I dove toward the sink to spit it back out, and then fumbled with the faucet to get water. After I rubbed my tongue with water to get the taste out and started putting the unopened cans back, I heard a quiet laugh coming from the stairs. I looked over to find Trent, one of my teenage "foster brothers," laughing at me.  
He descended the last two steps and came closer to me.  
"Probably a good idea," he said, referring to my change of heart. "Budweiser might have too many calories for you."  
He was mocking me, I realized as he took the opened can off the table and took a swallow of it.  
"Surprised you have the guts to steal one, though," he continued. "What made you do that?"  
I shrugged.  
"Oh, that's right. You don't talk. Guess you're too good to talk. You are _the_ Milly, after all,"  
I aimed for a confused look.  
"Or maybe you're just so good at expressions you don't need to talk. I mean _the_ Milly, in that everyone knows what happened to you,"  
I ducked my head down, desperate to not talk about it. But if I really _was _as good at expressions as he thought, he clearly didn't care about this expression.  
"It was all over the news," he continued. "An eleven-year-old orphaned by a stranger right after her birthday. That might be why every foster parent wants _you_ instead of the rest of the kids. I even heard someone famous got into the whole foster care thing just to get you. The trial was bigger than the Casey fucking Anthony trial. You having a breakdown in court was _huge_."  
I felt my lips quiver, and my body started to crumple.  
"Sorry. I'll stop talking about it. But what about the beer? Why'd you go for beer?"  
I looked around for something to write on.  
"Look," he said, a little irritably. "I know you can talk. You just don't want to."  
I sighed and nodded.  
"Spite. I wanna spite someone,"  
"With beer?"  
"Yeah,"  
"You know, if they don't like beer, I know of something else they probably wouldn't like. And something you probably _would_ like,"  
"What?"  
"Sex,"  
_Whoa,_ I thought, immediately nervous that he'd just gone there.  
"_What_?"  
"_Sex_. You know,"  
Did I know? I had an _idea_ of what it was, but I really didn't _know_ anything.  
"Um..."  
"You _do know_, don't you?"  
"Uh..." I hesitated, unsure if I should really talk about it with him. "Not really."  
"God, kid," he said, looking a little disturbed. "What, have you been living with a Catholic family all this time?"  
"I dunno," I said honestly.  
"Do you _want_ to know about it?"  
I thought for a moment about that. If I said yes, he wouldn't just tell me to ask Miss Corey about it - he'd tell me himself. Which would make me _seriously_ uncomfortable. But if Gerard hadn't told me anything about it, like he never told me anything about _anything_, he must have not wanted me to know. So I wanted to know.  
"Yeah," I said.  
"Okay...well..."

* * *

So _that_ was what Frank and Gerard were always doing. They were probably doing it as Trent was telling me about it. They had the same parts, though, so they must have done it a different way than the way he was telling me about.  
"You wanna try it?" he asked, smirking at me.  
"_What_? No!" I said, a little grossed out by the idea.  
Not that he looked ugly. He actually looked like a relatively attractive guy. The idea just grossed me out.  
"Why? Are you a lezbo?"  
"Huh?"  
"God, kid, you know nothing. Lezbo is short for lesbian. A gay woman,"  
"Oh,"  
"Least you know what gay means,"  
I almost laughed at that.  
"Are you?" he asked.  
"I dunno," I said.  
"You wanna find out?"  
He was trying _really_ hard to have sex with me.  
"No," I said.  
"I didn't mean it like that. Do you want to _see_ one? That's all I meant,"  
I figured _that_ wouldn't hurt.  
"Fine,"  
He looked around, then unzipped his pants and pulled them down far enough so that I could see. I almost had a heart attack and ran upstairs. But I stayed calm, and kept looking at it.  
"You wanna touch it?"  
"No,"  
"Does it make you want me to touch yours?"  
"No,"  
"Have you even hit puberty, kid? I mean, I know you got little tits there, but you don't act like you hit puberty,"  
"Yeah, I've hit puberty,"  
"You're not even curious about how it feels?"  
"Um...a little bit,"  
"So you want me to touch you?"  
"Um..."  
I didn't even know what I was supposed to feel in order to want it.  
"Does it feel like your body itself is begging for me to touch it?" he asked.  
"No," I said.  
"Then it wouldn't work, anyway," he said, pulling up his pants and zipping them.  
I stayed silent.  
"You probably don't even have those hormones yet. Maybe in another year or so you'll have 'em. Shame, 'cause by then one of us will be gone,"  
I finally felt like I'd had enough spite for one day.  
"Whatever. Don't tell anyone we talked about this. Or that I showed you my dick,"  
He sprinted up the stairs, leaving me relieved to be left alone.

* * *

**A/N: NOTHING AGAINST CATHOLICS! I feel like I put a lot of italicized words in here.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Frank POV**  
The police finally classified Carrie as a threat. But, even after Mikey's encounter with her, they still told us we could continue living in our homes. They simply strengthened the security in our houses and told us to go about our lives as usual. I wondered if they even remembered what happened with David.  
I knew I couldn't move, anyway. We were already into the first week of February. Leathermouth had a tour coming up in less than two weeks, and I didn't have time to relocate. But Gerard could move, even if they told him not to worry about it.  
After all, he couldn't come on the tour - being on the road would make him even more vulnerable than me. Even though we would have guards, we would still run on disorganized schedules to places the public expected to find us. And although Gerard would either be in a VIP box or backstage, there would be too much going on for a guard to pay enough attention to him in order to prevent anything from happening.  
So I had to leave him in California, all alone. He hated the idea. Whether because he would miss me or because he would fear going to sleep at night, I wasn't entirely sure. Either one, he fought the hell out of me over it.  
"I really don't see how it's safer here. I really don't," he said.  
"Because you can be on guard better," I told him.  
"What the fuck does that even mean? Frankie, I've been touring for, like, eight years. I know how to be on guard while touring,"  
"You won't be stuck in huge ass crowds here, if you get a guard he can actually _watch_ you-"  
"As I recall, guards aren't the best idea,"  
I sighed heavily, remembering my own unfortunate guard's demise. Another surge of guilt pierced my heart, while the image of his body grated my mind. Gee seemed to notice.  
"I'm sorry," he said, taking my hand.  
I leaned my head against his shoulder.  
"I just don't see why it's less dangerous for _you_ to be on the road," he continued.  
"'Cause I'm in the band,"  
"What difference does that make?"  
"Because when I perform, I'll be performing,"  
"Ohhh, you've been taking lessons from Houdini. I still haven't grasped how to do those at the same time,"  
I giggled.  
"I _mean_ you _won't_ be performing. There'll be too much to distract people from someone being taken from the crowd,"  
"And there'll be too much to distract people from someone pulling out a gun in the crowd,"  
"They screen for guns," I assured him.  
"And yet, people still manage to bring them in. If not guns, then bombs. Or snakes. It could end up like Snakes on a Microphone,"  
I laughed.  
"Or Delusions on a Tour Bus," I said. "Babe...I'm gonna put this as bluntly as possible...you would be what they call 'An Extra.' You would be an awkward seventh wheel. If you count the bus driver. Have you _ever_ seen a vehicle with seven wheels? Three wheels would be one thing...I'm pretty sure a lot of mopeds have three wheels. But seven?"  
"Dear, your argument is illogical and simply _wrong_. Firstly, the motorcycles that have those little cubbies on the side have seven wheels. Secondly, my awkwardness has nothing to do with it,"  
"Of course it does. The more awkward you are, the harder you are to protect,"  
"That's bullshit,"  
"Is not,"  
"Bullshit,"  
"Is not,"  
"Bullshit,"  
"Is not,"  
"Bullshit,"  
"You're staying here,"  
"_God_, Frankie-"  
"I have dogs. They'll stay in the house-"  
"And hide,"  
"What if I get you a gun?"  
"She'll steal it. Just like she stole the window. I bet she'll come through the non-existent window, too,"  
"It'll be fixed by then,"  
"She'll just take it out again,"  
"That would be extremely uncreative of her,"  
"Is 'uncreative' even a word?"  
"Does it _matter_?"  
"I could gain a lot of weight and come with you as your sumo-wrestler boyfriend. That might scare her away,"  
"You shouldn't have to risk clotting your arteries to scare someone away,"  
"I also shouldn't have to take my pants down to crap, but I do,"  
"I feel like it would be a better waste of time trying to bake muffins on a snapping turtle than to argue with you,"  
"See, 'cause you know I'm gonna win,"  
"Not by denying the usefulness of a toilet, you're not,"  
"I didn't deny the usefulness of a toilet, I denied the usefulness of my pants,"  
"What about your underwear? Are they useless?"  
"What underwear?"  
"_Honestly_, where is this going?"  
"I dunno, but it's making me horny,"  
"Talking about crap makes you horny?"  
"No, _fighting_ about crap makes me horny. _Fighting_ makes me horny,"  
"Not the point,"  
"The point, then?"  
"Do you really not wanna stay here? Does going on tour even matter, or do you just wanna go somewhere else?"  
"I wanna go somewhere else,"  
"How about you stay in a hotel until I get back or they find her? Maybe in a different state. In a disguise, so that fans and reporters don't know and investigate,"  
He thought about that for a while.  
"I feel like Mikey and Alicia should do the same,"  
"Then we'll ask them," I said. "Is that a yes?"  
"Yes,"

* * *

**A/N: Kinda a filler, kinda important. Man, I got some anxiety right now. I gotta shut up and spin in my swivley chair.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Milly POV**  
I also had a nine-year-old "foster brother," named Wesley. I almost got along with him even worse than I had with Ricardo. He behaved like an absolute cretin, which everyone blamed on the fact that he had spent four years in foster care already. Every stereotype people plastered on foster children could have very well come from him. He'd already lived in 24 foster homes, and got kicked out of most of them for trying to stab people. _Twenty-four homes_. I didn't even know the United States _had _that many families willing to foster people. Of course, having lived with three families in eight months, they passed me around at nearly the same rate. _But I never stabbed people._  
One thing in particular that bothered me about him was that he'd always ask inappropriate questions. I knew I should have found it hypocritical of myself to feel bothered by that, but I also knew I asked entirely different types of inappropriate questions. For example, the questions I asked Trent. Wesley, however, might ask our youngest foster sibling, Lacey, how she landed in foster care, but then scream at her when she asked him the same question. They both must have had short memories, because I witnessed this happen at least three times.  
My snapping point with Wesley happened about two weeks after they had placed me in Miss Corey's home. As it turns out, the foster care system really does have a three strike kind of deal. And that was my first strike.  
About a block away from our house, we had a small neighborhood park. My oldest foster brother, Jack, often liked to convince Miss Corey that he was taking me there in order to relieve her of the _extreme_ stress I clearly caused her. She seemed more than willing to let me out of the house, as long as Jack, whom she trusted the most, stayed with me. Miss Corey didn't know, however, that Jack only used me as a way to meet his drug dealer there. I - figuratively - kept my mouth shut about it, seeing as that was the only opportunity for me to leave the house without handcuffs. And Jack payed me $10 every time I went along with it. I don't know where _he_ got the money, and I didn't want to know. According to Trent, as a foster child, it's a good idea to take as much money whenever and where ever you can get it. He said it could save my life. Whatever he meant by that.  
But anyway. One day Jack came in my room with a pissed off look on his face. He pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to me, without even saying a word - at that point, he didn't need to explain anything when he handed me money. I looked out the window and saw rain splattering the driveway, but it didn't matter too much to me. I followed him down the stairs and watched as he confronted Miss Corey, who looked slightly confused that we would go to the park in that kind of weather.  
"It's raining," she said, as if our invalid minds couldn't process why wet stuff fell from the sky.  
"Milly still wants to go," Jack persisted, turning toward me. "Don't you, Milly?"  
I nodded.  
"Fine. But take Wesley with you this time. He's driving me crazy, too,"  
"Okay,"  
I nearly protested, but logic told me arguments would go no where. So we left the house, each carrying an umbrella, with Wesley trailing happily behind us. He immediately started asking me questions.  
"Are your parents in jail?"  
"Shut up, Wesley, she doesn't talk," Jack said.  
"She could nod," Wesley argued. "_Are_ they in jail?"  
I didn't respond.  
"Why do you wear so much blue?" he asked a few minutes later. "I mean, there are other colors, you know."  
"Wesley, _shut. Up_," Jack said.  
Wesley shut up for a few minutes, and we reached the park in silence.  
"Wesley, go play in the sandbox," Jack ordered. "You might find someone else's knife in there."  
He meant it as a joke, but Wesley took it seriously.  
"Oh, cool!" Wesley said, bounding toward the sandbox.  
Jack bent over and whispered in my ear, "I'll pay you another five to keep him from watching us too much. He'll blab to Miss Corey if he sees."  
I nodded, feeling money hungry enough to bother with Wesley that much. Jack went over toward the swing set, where his dealer stood, while I strode over to the sandbox.  
Wesley kept digging through the hardened sand, trying to find something worthy of his efforts. He seemed so focused that I didn't think I would need to try that hard to keep him from looking over at Jack. After all, it usually only took Jack about thirty seconds to make his exchange. But eventually, after not finding anything from a few digs, Wesley became frustrated with the task, and he started scooping all the sand out of the sandbox. It wouldn't have bothered me if he only did a little at a time, but the wetness of the sand made it easier for him to scoop more out at once. So I gave him a light tap on the shoulder. He turned toward me, looking a little angry. I made a "stop" gesture.  
"You can't tell me what to do!"  
I nodded firmly.  
"You can't even talk!" he cried, sweeping the sand out faster.  
I shoved him out of the sandbox, becoming increasingly furious with his behavior. He lost his umbrella and fell in a puddle, but I didn't care. At that point, I might have felt _glad_ if I had given him pneumonia.  
"_You're not the only one who uses the fucking sandbox, you asshole_!" I screamed.  
His jaw dropped in shock, then closed again to turn into a giant grin. He didn't care that I'd just pushed him out of the sandbox. He just cared that he had something to get me into trouble with.  
"Ooooo, Milly said stuff! And she said the F word!"  
"I'll say it again! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, _fuck you_!"  
"I'm gonna tell Miss Corey!" he sung, shooting up from the sandbox. "I'm gonna tell her you shoved me and called me an asshole!"  
He darted away from me, leaving his umbrella and ignoring Jack's screams. I threw my own umbrella down on the ground and ran after him.  
"Milly! Stop!" Jack yelled after me. "You can't chase him!"  
No one had ever told me that, and I saw no reason to _not_ chase him, so I kept running after him. He kept looking back at me, and every time he seemed more frantic. Eventually I heard him crying, but I thought it was a pretense he was already starting to put on for Miss Corey so that she'd think I did something. He started screaming only a few houses down from ours, which made several of the neighbors looking out the window to see what was going on.  
The door opened even before Wesley made it up the steps. Sopping wet with rain and mud, Wesley flung himself on Miss Corey and sobbed. I had thought he would immediately rat me out for cursing and shoving him into a puddle, but for several moments he only cried.  
"I don't wanna leave again!" he finally said. "She's trying to make me leave! I don't wanna leave!"  
I froze, baffled as to what he was talking about.  
Miss Corey glared at me menacingly, and I immediately knew I had done something wrong other than cursing.  
"Go to your room," she said to me in a near whisper.  
I ran past her, trying to ignore the fact that I was soaking the floor.  
"You are _never_ going outside without me _again_!" she screamed after me.  
I slammed the door to my room shut. Without even processing the thoughts or emotions going through my mind, I collapsed to the ground and sobbed.

* * *

After I managed to stop crying, get up off the ground, and change into dry clothes, I heard the door to my room open. I turned to find Trent standing in the doorway, giving me a sympathetic look.  
"I heard you broke the golden rule," he said. "'Don't chase the monster.'"  
I gave him a weak smile and nodded, not in the mood to laugh.  
"You wanna know why you don't chase the monster?"  
I nodded.  
"That's how it started for him. When he was, like...five, I think...he begged his parents for this chess set. Really weird kid to want a chess set, if you ask me. But, anyway. It was made from some special wood and carved by Native Americans, or something...and it cost, like, 200 bucks. So, obviously they didn't want to buy it for him. But after he begged enough, they got it for him, and told him that he had to keep it safe and never, _never_ lose any of the pieces. But he was five. A five year old loses everything. And _Wesley_ happened to lose everything _in the set_.  
"His parents got mad as hell, so...they _hired_ somebody...to, uh..._punish _him. They let Wesley out in the front yard after dark. He started playing with another toy, and he saw him standing there with a knife. He came at him, so Wesley ran and the guy chased him. The guy was bigger, so he caught up with him pretty quick. Grabbed Wesley, brought him to the ground...didn't even use the knife as anything but a scare tactic. He did it right in the middle of the street."  
His parents _hired_ someone to do that to him? His _parents_? It surprised me how, in a split second, my entire view of reality changed. I almost felt _lucky_. At least the person who ruined my life was a _stranger_. I had two people who loved me until the end...Wesley had two people who _caused _the end. _Why_? Why was a lost chess set worth destroying their child's faith in humanity?  
"Wes doesn't even remember it much. They call it a repressed memory. But he's terrified of being chased. And every time someone _does_ chase him, he almost always ends up being sent away,"  
We stood in silence for a few moments, while I let guilt smother me.  
"I thought you weren't supposed to ask someone how they landed in foster care,"  
"I didn't ask Wesley. I asked Mr. Evans,"  
I didn't know what else to say.  
"You didn't know. Don't feel bad,"  
For some reason, that kind reassurance of logic surprised me. I gave Trent a small smile, even though I felt like crying again.  
"You should go to bed," he said.  
I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, but I nodded. He tapped the wall, then closed my door.

* * *

**A/N: Phew. Long one. Sorry, just had to edit it. I know it sends out notifications when I do that.**


	30. Chapter 30

As I thought, I couldn't get to sleep. Several thoughts kept playing in my head repetitively.

_Corey is Miss Corey's maiden name. She and Mr. Evans must be getting a divorce. That's why she's gone back to Miss Corey.  
Mr. Evans is nicer than Miss Corey.  
Everyone here has a past.  
This isn't my permanent home, even if they say it is.  
I should be playing Barbie with friends and having sleepovers.  
I shouldn't even know the F word._  
I sat up and looked at the clock. It read 10:45. Despite the time, I got up and made my way to the door. I didn't know what to do, but I wanted to do _something_.  
Wesley's door wasn't locked - none of us could lock our doors without the wrath of Miss Corey raining down upon us. Light poured out from under his door, so I figured he had snuck out of bed. I went inside his room and found him under his covers, hugging a stuffed puppy, wide awake.  
"Milly?" he asked, looking slightly scared. "What are you doing in here?"  
"I'm sorry I scared you," I said.  
"It's okay," he said, clearly suspicious of me.  
"Sometimes," I continued, unsure why I bothered. "I do the same thing over Batman. The guy who...put me here...must have liked Batman."  
He looked around, not speaking for a moment.  
"You have nightmares sometimes," he finally said. "You don't say anything, like Trent does. But you whimper a lot. And sometimes you cry in your sleep."  
"I don't have as many as I used to,"  
"What made them start to go away?"  
"He died. And..." I trailed off, not wanting to admit that Gerard might have helped heal me a little.  
Even though he helped me heal a _lot_. He forced me to eat, when I didn't want to eat if my parents couldn't. He sung me to sleep at 3 am, when I felt too scared to even turn off the light. He danced to Hanson with me when he wanted to make up, and he gave me hoola-hoops to paint when I got bored. He made foster care _comfortable_.  
"What could make mine go away?"  
I thought about how to answer that delicately. He'd been going through this three years longer than I had, if anything he should have been giving _me_ advice. But I tried the best I could.  
"Living with a nice family," I said. "Going to a therapist."  
He looked straight ahead and didn't say anything. I waited a few moments to say anything to break the silence.  
"It's past your bedtime, though. Do you want to turn off the light?"  
"No,"  
I knew what that was like.  
"Goodnight," I said.  
"Goodnight,"  
I shut his door behind me. Curiosity built up inside me as something Wesley had said came back to me. I walked past my room and found Trent's, and then leaned my head against the door. At first I couldn't hear anything, but then broken sentences started emerging from his room.  
"Not thirsty...don't need..."  
I didn't hear anything for several more minutes.  
"Come back..."  
I didn't think he was having a nightmare, but I didn't know what a nightmare sounded like on _our_ side of the dream world.  
"Can't take more...stop...wanna die,"  
Now it sounded more like a nightmare. Trent started crying, which sent a dull pain to my heart. I opened his door and went inside his dark room.  
He laid on his stomach, frozen in fear. I edged my way up to him, almost afraid that he might snap and lash out at anything near him. My heart leaped against my chest as I approached him. He didn't wake up when I sat down next to him on the bed. I touched his forehead and felt sweat. As I wiped it off on my pajama pants, I faintly saw his eyes open.  
"You're having a bad dream," I said.  
He sighed.  
"Yeah," he said.  
"Sorry. I shouldn't be in here, then,"  
"No...that's fine,"  
My heart beat a little faster as I realized he probably expected me to say something else.  
"I just wanted to make it end," I said, starting to get up.  
I felt his hand gently on my arm.  
"Stay, please," he murmured. "Sometimes it scares the nightmares away to have someone with me."  
"Me too," I said, sitting back down.  
After a moment's hesitation, I laid down next to him. He scooted over to make room for me. Finally, exhaustion came over me and pulled me into sleep.

* * *

My heart got a jump start when I woke the next day, not expecting someone else asleep beside me. I jumped a little, but Trent didn't wake. He kept breathing softly, which only made my heart flutter faster in confusion. Then I remembered why I wasn't in my own bed.

The clock read 8 am, and I knew by then that Trent could sleep until noon easily. I felt fully awake and ready to go downstairs, but at the same time I didn't want to leave Trent at the mercy of his nightmares. So I looked around for something to amuse myself and found a few books on the floor. I picked up one by Shakespeare, surprised he had something so _classical_, and started trying to decipher it while he slept.

* * *

**A/N: Where are all my commenters? Thanks to those who are still commenting, but...I used to have a lot more. Is the story really getting worse?**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I know some of you probably got a notification that I added a chapter, when I didn't. That was just me adding a paragraph to chapter 19. I just figured out how to edit chapters the right way, like, right after I did that...so, sorry for the false notie!**

**Anyway. Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter! And also, I have to go to the beach tomorrow for a week to celebrate my grandmother's 94th birthday...even though she herself won't be there...so I won't be able to update until probably next Sunday or Monday.**

* * *

**Gee POV**  
I giggled behind my fake beard. Then I wondered if my giggle was too recognizable, and I tried laughing in a different tone. It sounded so ridiculous, it only made me giggle harder.  
"Gerard, good God, you're insane," Frankie muffled behind his own fake beard.  
We looked like homeless, gay, mountain men to be honest. It didn't help that we'd rented a green Honda Element to drive.  
"My beard tickles," I said. "Where am I going? And where is Mikey going?"  
"You're going to Las Vegas-"  
"Las veg-_ahhhhh_-s," I enunciated happily.  
Frankie stayed quiet, either trying not to laugh and drive off the road or trying not to throw me out the window onto the pavement.  
"Mikey and Alicia are going to New York City-"  
"In _New York_!" I sung.  
"Ray and company are going to Albuquerque-"  
"New Meh-hee-co,"  
"Bob and Kaitlin are going to Honolulu-"  
"Bob?" I couldn't figure out why he'd need to hide.  
Especially in a place so much more awesome than mine.  
"He was there," Frankie reminded me.  
"Right,"  
"And Lyn's going to Milwaukee,"  
"_Man From Milwaukee_!" I exclaimed, remembering that was one of Milly's favorite Hanson songs. "Except...she'll be a woman from Milwaukee! Why Milwaukee?"  
"She said she missed the cold,"  
I sighed, feeling guilty they all had to relocate because of something I did. At least, according to David it was my fault. I should have known better than to listen to him, but I couldn't help but see sense in his words.  
_You adopted Milly,_ knowing _she was connected to a murder,_ I remembered his voice telling me.  
"How did they take it?" I asked. "I mean...is this too hard for them?"  
"Babe, this is just like a vacation for them. Trust me, Bob was actually_excited_. Don't stress over it,"  
I tried to take what he said to heart, but every second in the four hour drive to Las Vegas made me feel slightly more guilty than the last. Frankie tried to get me to relax, but it didn't work. Even though running was a realistic approach now that Milly left and it seemed unlikely that Carrie could find us all once we scattered across the country, I still couldn't help the gut feeling that she already knew where to look.

* * *

Frankie helped me unpack...and helped me take off my fake beard...and then I helped him take off his fake beard...and helped him on the bed.  
"I can't stay long," he murmured as I kissed his neck.  
"I know...just give me fifteen minutes,"  
"Baby, fifteen minutes of sex is like one chip,"  
I giggled.  
"Fine...just fifteen minutes of this then,"  
"That I can do,"  
Those fifteen minutes passed way too quickly for me. I tried to get him to stay even after the fifteen minutes passed, but he kept putting his disguise back on. I asked him several times why he couldn't stay the night, even though I knew the rest of his band was waiting for him already, mainly to stall for time. I guess I just didn't want him to leave me all alone.  
"Gee," he said firmly. "I _love_ you. But I have to leave now."  
"Okay," I pouted. "I love you, too."  
He gave me a quick kiss on my lips through his fake beard before grabbing his hat and darting out the door. I watched the door even after he shut it and, though still sad that he left, giggled.  
I didn't want to stay in the room myself, so I started putting my facial hair back on. I only knew of a few places in Las Vegas that seemed dark enough for me to feel comfortable in, which were casinos. As stupid as I knew it was for me to go somewhere that resembled a bar, I went anyway. Luckily it was 8 pm anyway, and I felt obscured enough by the darkness to walk there.  
I made a beeline for a table, any table, in order to avoid the bar and the bartender screaming that night's specials. Interestingly, that put me at the poker table. Seeing them deal the cards reminded me of teaching Milly how to play poker merely weeks after I'd taken her in.  
_God_ I missed that girl. I wondered what her three strikes with me were. Definitely the last time she ran away. And then probably the time she ran away from Eliza's, even though that ended up saving her life. Running away with the car must have been her first strike. She'd run away several more times, but no one of importance witnessed that.  
I wondered if she was an escape artist at that point. I wondered if she even missed me. Then I realized it had only been about three weeks, which seemed long to me but still probably wasn't enough time for her to calm down. At least, since she only knew _most_ of the story.  
But if she knew that David had tied us up, would she have gotten angry? Or would she have felt guilty, like I felt over the possibility of my friends getting caught? Knowing Milly, she would be capable of both emotions at the same time.  
Then I started wondering what music craze she was into. Dixie Chicks still, or back to Hanson? Did she move on to harder stuff, maybe subconsciously affected by our influence? Or did she move on to something of the same category, like Carrie Underwood? Or, God forbid, the _Jonas Brothers_?  
With everything about Milly rampaging through my mind, I knew one thing: after all this was over, I had to get her back. But then I wondered...was that even possible now?


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Yaaaaaaay back from the beach. I could write there, but I couldn't figure out how to post - so here's one chapter...and I'm halfway through the second.**

**Milly POV**  
I nearly abandoned my room after that night, except when I got sent there for being _bad_ or when I needed to get dressed. I didn't know if anyone knew or what they would do if they did know, nor did I really care. But, for the first time, nights didn't feel like the worst part of my existence. The worst part of my existence was dealing with my foster "mother." She meant it when she said I would never leave the house without her again. Jack had to start taking Lacey with him to get his drugs, which made me feel guilty _for_ him. Even though she was a foster child, she was still only five years old.  
Already, I wanted a different foster home. But then I felt guilty about that because that would mean leaving Trent with those people, not to mention his nightmares. But I also knew that we couldn't keep each other sane forever. Eventually, one of us would get sent away.  
I briefly imagined Gerard coming back and taking both of us, but I knew that wouldn't happen. He probably wouldn't even come back for me, let alone someone he'd never even heard of. The only reason he came for me in the first place was because apparently my case had become famous. I was a _trophy_ foster child. Jeez.  
That very thought came back to me about many things. I thought about how no one would ever really _want_ to foster me - they just wanted to say they _had_ fostered me. I thought about no therapist _wanted_ to treat me - they just wanted to say they _had_ treated me.  
I guess with Gerard, though, at least he was famous, too. I mean..._technically_ he could have picked anyone to waste his time with...and he happened to pick me. And, I guess, at least he treated me with respect, rather than handcuffing me everytime we went somewhere. He even let me _go off on my own_ sometimes.  
Well, he treated me with respect until he lied to me. Which I knew I should have started to consider a little more, rather than tuning out all thoughts other than my original one. But, at the same time I wondered if it even mattered. I would never see him again, so why would I need to figure it out?  
Because I was forced to. Psychologically, I couldn't avoid it nor delve into it. Despite missing someone calling me Blue Bell, watching Frank try to get his dogs high on catnip, and simply having a foster parent that cared enough to sing me back to sleep nearly every night, I still felt caught in a deliberate fog of doubt and anger. With only my head to sort through everything, I couldn't do it. But other errors in fate could force me to come to a reluctant epiphany within seconds.  
One night, right after I had gotten dressed and had started to pretend to go to bed in my own room, Miss Corey came in my room. She looked extremely irritated, and I immediately thought I had somehow gotten in trouble again.  
"Come with me," she commanded.  
I threw the covers off and jumped out of bed as quickly as I could, as if it might make her less angry, and followed her. She led me downstairs and into the living room. My heart sped up as I became increasingly terrified of what she planned to do. But she stopped and turned me toward the front door, whereupon my racing heart finally came to a sudden halt.  
Jamia stood over the threshold, looking at her feet. She finally looked up at me, and a smile crossed her face. _That_ moment I decided, because _that_ moment I knew I would have a chance to get what I really wanted, if I played it right. And I wanted to go back.  
Still, out of instinct maybe, I tried to turn and run back to my room. Miss Corey roughly grabbed my arm, scolded me, and then forced me to stay.  
"Milly," Jamia said softly.  
Miss Corey shoved me toward the couch and pushed me down on it, then angrily gestured to Jamia to sit by me. Jamia, apparently also afraid of the woman, hurried to follow her instructions. Miss Corey disappeared into the kitchen, leaving us alone together.  
We stayed silent for a few moments. After being unable to speak for so long, and now intentionally refusing to talk, it didn't seem so awkward to me. But I could tell she didn't feel comfortable with the silence.  
"Milly," she said. "I know you're mad."  
I tried to give her an expression that said "no duh."  
"Yeah...I get that," she said. "I might be, too. I might be mad at _me_...or _Lyn_...or even _Mikey_...but why Gerard?"  
It kinda surprised me that _she_, of all people, was sticking up for Gerard. He supposedly stole her husband.  
"I'm not here to call you out," she said. "I'm here to understand. And I need you to explain it to me...what part of what Gerard went through for you was wrong?"  
Went through? I couldn't understand why she worded it that way. I looked down, feeling slightly childish.  
"I mean...actually encountering David wasn't exactly part of his plan. You act like he wanted to get caught,"  
I heard the key words in those two sentences, and my blood ran cold as I began to make sense of their meaning. Yet _another_ damn thing Gerard kept from me, which, strangely, was what completely redeemed him in my mind. He didn't break his leg by falling from a tree...David broke it. I remembered how Frankie winced a lot when he moved his arm...David had done something to Frankie, too.  
I slowly started crying as I realized how wrong I was, which seemed to surprise Jamia. Her expression changed from dead serious to utterly confused.  
"He didn't...tell me...he didn't...fall from...a...a tree!" I wailed.  
"Oh, God " Jamia muttered.  
"I...wanna...die!"  
"Oh, honey, no!" Jamia whispered, wrapping me in a hug. "Shhh, no. Don't feel that way."  
"It's...my...fault! It's all...m-m-my...fault!"  
Jamia pulled me onto her lap.  
"No, shhh, Blue Bell...it's not your fault. It's David's fault. He's the only one to blame,"  
"But he...hurt...Gerard...'cause of me,"  
"Mill...how do you know he wouldn't have hurt him either way?"  
"He...wouldn't have...known..."  
"There's a remote chance he would have picked Gerard, true enough. But there was just as good a chance that he picked you. If he had gotten away and you hadn't lived to tell the court about it, he would have had the chance to get to someone else. And it could have been Gerard. But since you called the police, and you told the court about him, and you told Gerard about him, Gerard knew what to do. You gave him a _better_chance at surviving, if that's the case,"  
My sobs subsided, but I didn't stop crying.  
"I wanna...talk to Gerard," I whimpered.  
"I don't know if they'll let you do that," she said. "I don't know what rules they have on former foster parents."  
I slid out of her lap on onto the seat next to her.  
"I want him...to be my foster parent again,"  
"Well...Blue Bell...your foster parents now aren't just gonna give you up. The law has to take you away, for one. And even after they do that, they wouldn't put you with just anyone you wanted. Gerard would have to jump in at just the right minute and ask for you. And even then there's a small chance they'd say yes,"  
"Because they've already figured out that it doesn't work between us,"  
"Right. And a lot of other people want you,"  
I felt a little bit of bitterness over that.  
"But..." Jamia said, apparently getting another thought. "You could change that. You could make them _not_ want you."  
"How?"  
She smirked at me.  
"They all know you're an escape artist," she lowered her voice so no one could hear. "If you make them think you're even worse than that, even worse than your knife wielding fellow foster child who I had the misfortune of meeting, then they'll put every warning possible on your profile in the database,"  
"And no one will want me other than Gerard,"  
"Exactly,"  
"So basically..."  
"Give 'em hell," she whispered.


	33. Chapter 33

After a while, Miss Corey came back out and told Jamia to leave. Jamia jumped up, gave me an apologetic look, hugged me goodbye, and then left. She must have felt guilty that she had to leave me with a woman that scared us both. But I'd soon have to get over that fear.  
I went upstairs and, without even bothering to stop by my room, went straight to Trent's room. I'd waited too long to join him - he was already in a nightmare. I went over and sat down next to him, and then gently touched his arm. He still didn't wake up, so I put my hand on his cheek. He only whimpered in response. I leaned over him, not sure what I was doing, and pressed my lips against his. He continued shaking for a couple of seconds, but then calmed down. I felt him press back gently for a while, and then he broke apart from me. He relaxed against his pillow and smiled slightly at me. My heart fluttered a little at the thought that he felt okay with what I had just done. I admitted to myself, looking at him, that I might have developed a _little_ crush.  
He reached up and touched my cheek. Then a concerned look crossed his face, and he fingered my scar with his thumb.  
"My parents used to drug me," he blurted out.  
I froze, not expecting that to come out of his mouth. Even though I wondered about his past and his dreams, I didn't dare ask.  
"What?"  
"To get me to pass out so that they didn't have to deal with me. They'd put something like a date rape drug in water and make me drink it. Then they'd leave. I dunno where they went all the time. But whenever I resisted, they either held me down and forced it down my throat or they hit me until I cooperated. One day a neighbor got suspicious because she never saw a babysitter come whenever my parents went out,"  
My heart sunk. His parents caused his pain, too, and I didn't understand it. I thought most foster children were like me - orphaned. Did most foster children end up in foster care because their parents hated them? And how could their parents _hate_ them? And _even then_ how could they be _cruel_?  
"I'm sorry," I murmured.  
He shrugged. "I just...wanted to tell you, 'cause...I know your story. But you don't know mine. It's over, though. They're in jail. I haven't seen them since I was 12."  
Which meant he'd lived in foster care for two years. I sighed and laid down next to him. He wrapped me in a hug.  
"You don't know my entire story, though," I said.  
He looked interested.  
"Really?"  
"Yeah...I didn't even know...for a long time. But that guy...David...came back after me. But my last foster parent...killed him," I said, not wanting to get into details.  
His eyes widened a little.  
"Whoa...that's an intense foster parent. I wish all of 'em were that devoted,"  
Then I wondered if I should have started getting that close to him - emotionally, at least. If I really wanted to leave ASAP, we probably shouldn't have started sharing stories from our pasts. 

* * *

I was already on strike one. I just couldn't figure out how to get any other strikes. Running away wasn't an option, since Miss Corey had every door and window locked to prevent that. I didn't want to scare Wesley again and I didn't want to hurt any of the other foster children, so that left me with very few ideas. Then I remembered how I just barely got up the guts to try drinking one of Mr. Evans' beers. That, I figured, would definitely get me a strike.  
So, one night when Trent had gone to some friend's house for a sleepover and I knew he wouldn't catch me, I went down to the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator. Mr. Evans had one full six pack and one six pack with only two left. I didn't want to drink them, though. So I poured them all out.  
A buzz of adrenaline ran through me as I drained the last of Mr. Evans' brain-shrinking fluid. It felt so strange that such a simple task might get me sent back halfway across the country - even though every other simple act that got me sent away didn't feel strange at all. Maybe the sheer fact that I was _knowingly_ throwing away something that cost someone money made it seem strange. Foster care must have seriously started to have an effect on me.  
I thought for sure that Mr. Evans would crash through every door in the house when he found out and demand to know who did it until someone came clean. That someone clearly meaning me. It didn't seem likely that anyone would take the blame for something that they had no idea had happened. Nor did it seem likely, at that moment in my mind at least, that Mr. Evans would simply blame someone without asking everyone first. But, when I woke up the next day and went down for breakfast, I found he did just that with Jack.  
"Jack!" I heard Mr. Evans roar.  
Jack typically doesn't seem scared of many people. At least, he doesn't seem scared of Miss Corey. But once he heard Mr. Evans' fury, he immediately looked petrified.  
"Yes?" he asked.  
Mr. Evans burst through the door from the living room and grabbed Jack by the hair, then drug him over to the refrigerator. I immediately became terrified _for_ Jack once I saw Mr. Evans open the door and point inside.  
"_I had eight beers in there_!" he yelled. "_What happened to them_?"  
"I don't know!" Jack exclaimed.  
I knew Mr. Evans wouldn't _really_ hurt any of us, but he still scared me. Somehow, though I didn't even have a pad to communicate my thoughts, I managed to stand up and walk over to him. I tugged on his shirt a little, and he whipped around to face me.  
"_Not_ now!" he yelled at me.  
I stood back a little, unsure of how to handle it if he wouldn't pay attention to me.  
"I _know_ you did it!" he continued to yell at Jack.  
"But I _didn't_ do it! And how do you know it wasn't Trent?"  
"Trent's not here!"  
"How do you know he didn't do it _before_ he left?"  
"Because I had one right _after_ he left!"  
I tried to make a noise, and waved my hands around to get Mr. Evans attention.  
"See, _Milly_ knows something about it," Jack said.  
"Stay out of it!" Mr. Evans yelled at me.  
"But-" I tried to butt in.  
"I said _stay out of it_!"  
He turned back toward Jack, and I knew I had screwed up. I couldn't even _convince him_ it was my fault.  
"You're so puny, I don't even know how you're still standing!"  
"Because I didn't do it!"  
"You're lying!"  
"No, I'm not!"  
"You don't think I've smelled that shit you smoke in your room? You're into this stuff, I know it!"  
"But I didn't-"  
He grabbed Jack by the ear and drug him toward the living room door. Jack yelled out in surprise and pain, while I stood frozen in terror. I had no idea where Mr. Evans was taking him.  
"Mr. Evans!"  
He ignored me, so I tried running after them. Once in the living room, Miss Corey caught me and held me back.  
"This is _your_ fault!" Mr. Evans yelled at his wife.  
"How so?" she yelled back.  
"You keep them inside all fucking day, so they don't know what else to do! They're animals because of you!"  
"That's not true! I keep _this one_ inside all day! _That one_ is _your _responsibility!"  
"_You're_ the one who signed us up for this in the first place!"  
"Well, you're free once you sign the Goddamn papers!"  
I squirmed in her arms as they fought, trying desperately to get to Mr. Evans and to tell him that his missing beer was _my_ fault. Miss Corey held a firm grip, though, and eventually Mr. Evans and his prey got away.  
I slumped in defeat, fearful for Jack's fate and consumed in guilt for having caused it. Miss Corey, meanwhile, sent me to my room for "clearly doing something weird."


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: WOW. Two months? I'm sorry. I'm ridiculous. But finals and a freakin' holiday program kind cut into my writing time. Plus writer's block (easy to blame not writing on writer's block, isn't it? But it's true).**

**Gee POV**  
The clock read three am, which I found ironic. After eight months of waking up at three am only because of the sound of Milly screaming, I hadn't really expected to have trouble with waking up at that time on my own. But now, almost three months after they took her away, I reminded myself of Milly.  
The dark room made me anxious, and I could feel that I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep anytime soon. I turned the light on, only to become even more anxious over the fact that anyone outside could see that I had just turned my light on. The fact that I was alone made it even worse.  
_I could call Frankie,_ I thought. _He's probably already in New Jersey. It would still be six am there, though. He wouldn't be awake. And I've already called him five times in the past day. But he would do the same. He might do the same any minute. He might_ not _be asleep. He might be having nightmares without me, too. I'll call him._  
I was _convinced_ he was waiting for a call.  
"Fucking pussy," I heard Frank's exhausted voice.  
"It's scary here," I pouted.  
"Babe...it's six in the morning...it's probably, like, four there,"  
"Three, actually,"  
"You're in Las Vegas. Why the fuck are you calling me?"  
"I dunno, 'cause I thought you _loved_ me," I huffed childishly.  
"I'd love you more if you let me sleep,"  
"Oh _I see how it is_,"  
"That's exactly how it is,"  
"How's your tour been?"  
"_Gerard_," he groaned.  
"I guess you've only played a few shows. You wouldn't really know after just a few shows,"  
"Go back to bed,"  
"But I'm scared,"  
"So go play poker. You're in-" he yawned. "-the city that never sleeps."  
"That's New York,"  
"Well, I'm tired, I got sleep on the brain. Go do something,"  
"_Fine_," I sighed. "_Bye_."  
"Bye, love,"  
I hung up.  
"Asshole,"  
Even though I didn't really want to leave my room, for a ridiculous fear that _she_ might be waiting outside, I changed out of my pajamas and into my disguise. I hated having to wear all that extra shit every time I went out, but staying in my room all the time made me feel vulnerable. That made me worry a little about Frankie, since I knew the cold weather would make him want to stay in his room whenever he wasn't performing. But I wouldn't be obsessive compulsive.  
I walked down a trash-covered sidewalk without the slightest clue of where to go. Then I saw a place called _Sapphire_, which immediately sparked my interest. I went inside, not caring that they probably had a huge bar.  
Despite the fact that it was three-thirty in the morning, it still looked pretty packed. I strode past the bar onto what I thought was the dance floor - before I noticed a stage. As soon as I saw the stage, I realized what _Sapphire_ was. A strip club.  
Guilt hit me as soon as I made the decision to stay. I found a seat while my mind screamed at me to turn around and leave. My mind screamed louder as the girls, who barely had clothes on to begin with, stepped out on stage. Dozens of guys whistled, along with a few women. The strippers on stage smirked as they bathed in the attention. Then the music started playing.  
I looked over a few tables away, and saw one guy with his hand already down his pants. A couple of lesbians had their hands down _each other's _pants while making out. Several people watched them make out - some because they were curious, but most because they were horny.  
I looked back at the stage, and watched a stripper take her shirt off. She threw it at some guy, then twirled around the pole. Some guys thought that was the most amazing thing they'd ever seen, some got mad that she didn't throw her shirt at them. Then she came off the stage, toward me.  
My heart pounded, having not expected _contact_ with the strippers. She stepped up on my table and danced a little up there. Then she lowered herself seductively, so that her lips were inches away from my face. She fingered the edge of my beard, near my lips.  
"I know that's fake," she whispered.  
The she pressed her lips against mine.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: I didn't realize I'd go so long without any REAL Carrie action. Hopefully it's coming soon.**

**Milly POV**  
The rainfall outside the kitchen window reminded me of the day I got my first strike. The only difference was it was earlier in the day. I still felt bad about that day, though I knew Wesley couldn't remember it. Several websites I went to about PTSD said that sufferers could have trouble remembering the event or any event that reminded them of the original trauma. I wished I had that problem.  
Though I knew Miss Corey wanted me to do school work (she didn't home school me because she agreed with Gerard about it being the best thing for my traumatized soul...she just didn't want me to run away from school), I hadn't even opened my books. I had decided to make tea instead.  
I thought it would be a mundane task. I'd made tea several times before...but I had a tea pot back then. The only thing I thought to put the water in that time was in a pot. Still, though I didn't put a lid on it, it didn't seem like a big deal.  
Lacey came in and stood up in a kitchen chair. That immediately irritated me. But more so at Miss Corey than Lacey, because Miss Corey let her stand up on the furniture. I guess because she was small and cute.  
_Please get down,_ I signed.  
I learned to sign that just for times like this.  
"What?" she asked in that small, probably intentional baby voice.  
"Down," I said.  
"No! You're not the boss of me!"  
I humphed and turned back to my boiling water.  
"You hear me, Milly? _You're_ not the boss!"  
I heard her come up to me as I turned off the stove. She pulled on my shirt.  
"Milly, what are you doing?"  
"Tea," I said, getting ready to pour tea in a cup. "You want some?"  
I didn't want to talk to Lacey, but I knew that she wouldn't understand me otherwise and she wouldn't leave me alone until she understood me.  
"Yeah!" she squealed happily.  
To see her so happy almost made me happy. But then she grabbed at the scalding hot pot, making it spill on her face. She let out a blood curdling scream and wiped the water frantically from her face.  
"_Lacey_!" I exclaimed, slamming the pot back on the stove. "_Oh my God_! _I'm sorry_!"  
But spoiled five-year-old girls never listen to apologies. I know I never did.  
"Miss Corey!" Lacey sobbed, running out of the kitchen and into the den.  
"Lacey!"  
I ran after her, only to stop dead as soon as I saw Miss Corey. Lacey grabbed at her leg, similar to the way Wesley had, and sobbed. Miss Corey's expression looked, as always, livid. But I could tell she didn't feel that way because I had hurt Lacey. She felt that way because a social worker stood on the threshold to the den, looking disappointed in Miss Corey's foster parenting skills.  
"Milly!"  
"I'm sorry," I whispered.  
"_Go to your room. Do your school work._ We'll talk about this later,"  
Strike two.

* * *

Either I was trying too hard to get sent away, or I wasn't trying hard enough. Aren't those always the two options? Or, more likely, I wasn't _thinking_ hard enough. There had to be a reason I only got in trouble by accident. I wasn't examining past events to figure out what type of action would get me sent away. Of course, any past events with Gerard wouldn't be easily repeated if I was locked inside the house.  
So I looked up _other_ people's past events. _Slaves. Newspaper articles. A Child Called It._ I scanned through Google, reading biographies and synopses of biographies that I thought might help me. David Peltzer caught my eye.  
_Perfect,_ I thought morbidly.  
I heard someone enter my room. I didn't have to look up to guess who.  
"You burnt the brat in front of a social worker. Good job,"  
"Let me guess," I finally looked up at Trent. "Lacey's parents bathed her in boiling water."  
"No. I mean...I don't think so,"  
He didn't say anything else, and I didn't probe him for anything. Yet, by the way he sadly stared at the ground, it seemed like he had something else to say.  
"You need to start being careful," he murmured. "Or you're gonna get sent away."  
Even though we'd gotten close, I still didn't expect him to feel upset about the prospect of me leaving.  
"Isn't that going to happen eventually, anyway?"  
"Yeah, probably, but you could try to avoid it,"  
I looked away, ashamed to _want_ to leave. Or, at least, ashamed to want to leave _him_. I started wondering what I wanted more - to stay with him, or to go back to Gerard?


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: WOW. Sorry. Long time no post. I don't even know if anyone is reading this anymore.**

I hated Saturdays. I had nothing to do. Back in California, I was allowed to play almost any kind of game I wanted - as long as it didn't destroy the house. Here, Miss Corey wouldn't even let me play Post-It Note checkers. She thought it wasted Post-It Notes.  
But finally, one Saturday in early March, Trent came into my room and told me to come into the basement with him. At first the idea made me nervous, because everyone considered the basement "Mr. Evans' territory," where he did all of his handiwork. But Trent assured me that Mr. Evans had actually _asked_ for us to go down there, so I followed him.  
As we came down the stairs, Mr. Evans started unplugging all of his power tools. I guess he thought I was still young enough to want to mess with them. He looked at us and smiled, and then pointed toward a door I had never seen before.  
"That door has no key, and can only be locked from the inside," he said. "You know what they say about solitary confinement?"  
"No, sir," Trent and I said in unison.  
"They say it makes bad behavior worse," he looked at me when he said that.  
"You...wouldn't get in trouble for this?" Trent asked.  
"What the bitch doesn't - Oh...I'm sorry, Milly. What Miss Corey doesn't know won't kill anybody,"  
Mr. Evans bolted up the stairs before we could thank him. Trent smiled. I felt myself smile. Trent motioned to the door, and I nodded.  
After checking to make sure no one was watching, we closed the door behind us. Finally stepping outside without handcuffs, it almost felt like a weight had lifted from my chest. I felt _free_.  
We ran down to the same playground that Jack used to take me to, and sat on the swings. I hadn't told him about my plan, and I didn't intend to. But I wondered if he had figured it out on his own.  
"Jack's supposed to get back Monday," he said.  
"Where did they take him?" I asked.  
"Some substance abuse treatment program,"  
"Oh," I hesitated in asking what I really wondered. "Is he still mad?"  
"You mean mad as in crazy, or mad as in angry? 'Cause he's still both,"  
"Who's he mad at?"  
"Mr. Evans,"  
We sat in silence for a moment.  
"I think he knows you tried to tell Mr. Evans who did it," he continued. "I think _you_ did it."  
I felt heat go to my face, both out of shame and irritation.  
"I did. How'd you know, though?"  
"You do some weird things, girly. I don't think you even realize it,"  
The sad part was, I _used_ to realize it. At that point, I had been doing them for so long, I couldn't tell which parts of me were normal, which parts were strange, and which parts only _seemed_ strange to the ones who didn't know my ulterior motive.  
"My old foster parent used to like them. He thought they were funny. He even let me destroy some of his stuff just to see what I would do with it,"  
He looked down at the ground, mulling over my words.  
"The Evans are my fourth foster family. They're the nicest I've had yet,"  
That surprised me. How could you consider Miss Corey nice? I guess there could have been meaner, but that didn't make sense, either. Why would someone voluntarily foster you just to be mean?  
"Are we ever gonna get a family that actually lets us outside?"  
He smirked.  
"I doubt it. All the nice families usually keep their kids until they're 18. So about once a year _one_ family in an entire county might have enough room for _one_ more kid. It's like...a one in a thousand chance. For each of us. It would be a one in a million chance for us to get sent to the same home,"  
A little bit of sadness filled me. Even if Gerard came back for me, Trent would have a very small chance of getting a nice family. Unless...  
Maybe Gerard could take him, too.  
But could that happen? Would that be possible? Would Gerard _do it_? I believed that Gerard would like Trent, but didn't Mr. Evans like Trent, too? Would Mr. Evans have to sign some agreement for Gerard to become Trent's foster parent? The legalities of it all made my head hurt, but I didn't want to blindly hope. I didn't even know for a fact that I could go back to Gerard.  
"We should go back," Trent said.  
I nodded and followed him back to the house.  
Trent snuck back up to his room, while I snuck into the kitchen to get something to eat. Then I heard the phone ring. Someone picked it up after three rings.  
"Hello?" Miss Corey said.  
There was a brief pause.  
"How did you get this number?" Miss Corey asked. "The social worker gave it to you. Just like that? Oh...you used to be her foster parent."  
My heart fluttered once I realized it must have been for me.  
"Are you the one that gave Jamia my address?" she asked. "Why would you do that?"  
I got a little nervous. Was it Gerard?  
"Ma'am, you can't just give out my address to people who want to see her,"  
Lyn-z!  
"Whatever. Milly! Good luck getting her to talk,"  
I ran over and took the phone from her.  
"Hello?" I mumbled.  
"Hey, Blue Bell!" Lyn-z said. "How are things going? I heard you're getting in trouble a lot."  
"Trying to,"  
She laughed. "Trying to. Well...girly...you shouldn't try anymore. Jamia called Gerard, told him...what she accidentally told you. About you-know-who. Apparently he terminated his foster care agreements already."  
I didn't know what that meant, but the word "terminate" never sounds good.  
"What?" I asked.  
"Sweetie...he's not a foster parent anymore,"


	37. Chapter 37

**Gee POV**  
Late March. Milly's birthday. I should have been with her, finally celebrating a birthday with her. But, instead, I was stuck in Las Vegas, singing an old song and imagining the wind carrying it to her.

_If you were here I'd never have a fear.  
So go on live your life.  
But I miss you more than I did yesterday._

_You're beautiful!_

_Well, I'm a total wreck and almost every day._  
_Like the firing squad or the mess you made._  
_Well, don't I look pretty walking down the street..._

I trailed off, sinking in a subtle feeling of regret. I'd made up my mind to simply get through this ordeal, and move on. Not to sing about it. Still, I had nothing else to do but sit and think about it.  
Frank had one more stop to make before he came back to Las Vegas and took me home. We hadn't heard or seen any sign of Carrie, but that hardly comforted anyone. Everyone had a feeling she was sneakier than her brother.  
My phone rang, which only reminded me of just how much this woman had put us through. Frank needed a new coffee table. We had to get new windows, new phones, and temporarily new lives.  
"Hello?" I mumbled.  
"Hey, baby," Frankie said, sounding barely awake. "You doing okay?"  
"Yeah. You?"  
"I guess. I miss you,"  
"I miss you, too," I said. "But there's only one more show."  
"Three more days,"  
"Maybe you could cancel it and come home now,"  
He laughed a little. "No, I don't think I could do that."  
"Aw, come on. Surely you went to a 24 hour seafood restaurant last night. You remember, on the Black Parade tour, we got out of, like...four shows,"  
"But we _actually_ had food poisoning that time,"  
"Ugh. I guess you can have one more show,"  
He giggled. "I love you."  
"I love you, too,"  
"Like a koala loves his mommy's poop,"  
"_What_?"  
"You know...koala's actually have to eat their mommy's poop when they're little,"  
"That doesn't mean they love it,"  
"Well, you know...you love guacamole,"  
I stayed silent for a moment.  
"Frank...go to sleep,"  
"You sure?"  
"Yeah,"  
"Okay, bye,"  
He hung up before I could say goodbye back.  
"You could also, you know, not even hesitate to hang up,"  
I put down my phone and sat in silence for a moment, then got up and started adjusting the pictures on the wall. Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. I jumped a little in surprise.  
"Police," a woman's voice shouted.  
My heart hammered as I wondered what I did. Then small pieces of the puzzle started connecting. Burglars try to trick you into thinking they're the police. The voice belonged to a woman. Carrie was a woman.  
And I had no way out of my room.


	38. Chapter 38

**Frankie POV**  
One town left - late March, in a small Oklahoma town. I had to practically beg my manager and my booking agent to make it possible, but I got my way. It was only a ten minute drive to the address I got from Jamia (who got it from Lyn-z, who got it from Gerard, who got it from the social worker, who clearly didn't think Gerard would give it to the rest of the universe).  
I got Milly a present. A Jonas Brother's CD. The cashier even looked at me like he couldn't believe I was buying it. A year before _I_ wouldn't believe I would ever buy one. Of course, a year before I wouldn't have believed I would dance to Hanson. Or choke down a perfectly good Batman reference. Or watch Hairspray. But I did do all that.  
Jamia and Lyn-z both told me the woman taking care of her was a bitch. But I'd dealt with bitches before. That didn't bother me too much. It bothered me when she answered the door and told me to leave.  
"Why?"  
"It's late,"  
"It's only 11,"  
"That's late,"  
"I bet Milly's still awake,"  
"I bet she's not supposed to be,"  
"_Please_, can I see her?"  
"No,"  
"But it's her birthday,"  
She gave a heavy sigh, like she was caving. "I know."  
"I got her something,"  
"I'm sure you did,"  
I stared at her, and started to pout. She obviously thought that was strange.  
"Oh dear God, make it quick,"  
"Thank you," I grinned, stepping inside.  
She went off to find Milly while I waited in the living room. After a minute or so Milly came bounding out, the tail of her blue skirt flapping behind her. When she hugged me, I noticed she'd changed. Specifically, she was wearing a bra and _she stunk_.  
"Did she give you deodorant for your birthday?" I asked, pulling away from her.  
"I think you're smelling Trent,"  
"_Who the fuck is Trent_?"  
And why did she _smell_ like him?  
"One of the guys here," she said, apparently no longer shocked by cursing.  
"Whatever," I said, pulling out the CD. "Happy birthday."  
She took the CD and grinned up at me. "Thank you, Frankie."  
She led me over to the couch and sat with me. I could sense the question before she even asked it. She waited until Miss Corey left the room.  
"Why did Gerard terminate his guardianship?"  
I sighed. "He thought it was a slim chance that he'd get you back. And...you know...they wanted him to take in other kids who needed a home. I kinda wanted him to. It would've been good. But he's..."  
I trailed off. _Right then_ he didn't want to risk anyone else's life. But did I want to tell her that? Probably, unless I wanted another breakdown in the future.  
"He's terrified of Carrie,"  
She looked concerned, but she didn't start hyperventilating.  
"He's hiding out in Las Vegas,"  
She bit her lip and looked away, down at the floor. A few tears leaked out of her eyes.  
"Is everything going to be okay?" she murmured.  
I didn't want to answer that. But I knew better than to lie to her by now.  
"I don't know," I said. "I hope so."  
"I hope so, too,"  
I saw Miss Corey come back into the room.  
"I'll come back," I said.  
She nodded, wiping her tears away. I took her face in my hands and kissed her forehead, and then wrapped her into a hug. Miss Corey coughed loudly. We said our sad goodbyes and I left, with a nagging feeling that made me want to get home as soon as possible.

* * *

I'm so sorry! I _thought_ I wouldn't have writer's block, but I did. Anywho, at least it only took two weeks instead of seven months.


	39. Chapter 39

**Gee POV**  
I can at least say I put up a pretty good fight. I took one of the pictures off the wall, ran into the bathroom, smashed it and tried to use one of the shards to defend myself. But she had a gun. And a damned strong kick.  
The worst part was that it wasn't even Carrie - it was one of her accomplices. Which meant Carrie had a lot more help than David had. Which meant I would probably die.  
She didn't tell me where Carrie had run off to, but she did tell me I would meet her. Of course, I'd figured that out by myself, even before she lead me downstairs and put the bag over my head.  
For a moment I thought we were going back to my house, in the backyard like the last time. But then I realized Carrie was smarter than that. She would find somewhere deserted. And what better state to find that than Nevada?  
Sure enough, once the accomplice chained me up and pulled the bag off my head I found myself in a warehouse. I tensed up, expecting Carrie to be waiting with a crowbar in hand. But, instead, I saw a table carrying a plate of food and a glass of water. The accomplice started cutting up the meat on the plate, and stuck it in my face.  
"Eat," she commanded, flashing a fake smile.  
Through my bewilderment at this sudden portrayal of hospitality, I managed to feel a bit of pride.  
"I'm vegan," I sneered.  
Her smile fell, replaced with a glare.  
"Fine," she said, throwing the fork down on the plate and picking up the glass of water. "At least drink something. It might be a day or two before Carrie gets here."  
She pressed the glass against my lips, but I refused to open my mouth.  
"Don't make this harder than it has to be. I _will_ force you,"  
I gave her a hard glare before opening my mouth and taking in some of the liquid.  
"Good boy," she said.  
Once she put the glass down and walked away, I halfway relaxed. If it would be a day or two, then someone was _bound_ to notice I went missing before Carrie got to me. Frankie would, at least. But how would they find me before Carrie did? And where _was_ Carrie?  
Finding someone else, I figured. But who? Milly? Was Milly _still_ in danger? Or did Carrie even care about Milly, since she wasn't directly involved in David's death? No...but Bob was.  
Then, suddenly, I remembered the reasoning behind Milly's games. _Play reenactment._ Maybe Carrie was doing her own play reenactment. Maybe she wanted to reenact the scene with David...except, with the ending she wanted. Which meant a bullet in Bob's skull. 

* * *

**Frank POV**  
I called Gerard once. He didn't answer. I immediately called him again. He still didn't answer. I repeatedly called him on my cell phone until the flight attendants made me turn it off. Then I called him on the plane's phone every five minutes for the entire flight, nearly forgetting just how much that might cost me. Gerard wouldn't ignore me for this long. He'd never missed a single one of my calls the entire Leathermouth tour. There was definitely something wrong.  
As soon as the seat-belt light turned off, I darted toward the front, ahead of everyone else, and waited edgily for the flight attendant to finally open the door.  
"What's the hurry?" he asked as he pulled the lever, looking at me like I was Rachel McAdams after stabbing someone in the throat with a pen.  
"My, uh...girlfriend's havin' a baby," I said.  
The door opened and I bolted out. As soon as I got through security, I ran outside, hailed a cab, and blurted out the address of Gerard's hotel.


	40. Chapter 40

There were police at the hotel when the cab dropped me off. Despite his gittery demeanor, I convinced him to wait for me. I ran inside the hotel and asked the receptionist to make a call to Gerard's room. She immediately whitened and started stuttering.  
"That - that...that's the room they're investigating," she said.  
I pulled out two pictures of Gerard - one with his disguise and one without it.  
"Did you see either of these people leave?"  
"No,"  
I turned away from her, frustrated, and went up to the nearest cop.  
"Not now," he waved me away.  
"Did you talk to the L.A. police?" I asked him.  
He looked at me, irritated.  
"Yes, they contacted us. They haven't found him, either. I'd suggest you go back to your guard and let us handle it,"  
Go back to my guard? And let _them_ handle it? I doubted they even knew what they were doing. Still, he gave me something useful to work with. Clearly, if the L.A. police hadn't found him yet, she had decided not to do things the way David had. Of course, we'd already established that she was smarter than David. And the smartest place to hold someone hostage was somewhere abandoned, probably a warehouse.  
But I was in Nevada. How the hell was I going to narrow _that_ down? 

* * *

**Gee POV**  
I must have fallen asleep. The lights were turned off, and I couldn't figure out how much time had passed. I heard someone, who sounded like a young girl, groaning in front of me.  
"Hey...who's that?"  
Another moan barely escaped her.  
The light turned on again, and I saw a ginger-haired teenage girl a few yards across from me, also tied to a pole. Despite the gag in her mouth and the scratches on her face, I recognized her as Bob's sister.  
"_Ashley_?" I exclaimed.  
"Hey!" I heard my captor yell at me. "Quiet, or I'll gag you, too."  
Ashley barely opened her eyes. It looked like she'd already taken a bit more than a beating.  
What was she doing here? She didn't have anything to do with this. She was just a teenager.  
"You gotta let her go," I said to the woman.  
"Shut. Up,"  
"She didn't have anything to do with David,"  
"Shut up!"  
I shut up, if only because I knew I wouldn't convince her. It was Carrie I'd have to beg. And how long until _she_ got here? Or was she the one that brought Ashley? If she had, she must have left. To get who?  
I struggled with my chains again, all in vain. That woman knew how to restrain someone. Then, in another strange expression of hospitality, the woman went over to Ashley and started applying ointment to her scratches. After that, she offered Ashley water, which she accepted far more readily than I had.  
I started to wonder if my first theory was wrong. Or...if it was just slightly off. Maybe Carrie didn't want to reenact the encounter between David and me. Maybe she wanted to reenact the encounter between David and Milly. With Ashley as Milly's replacement.


	41. Chapter 41

**Frankie POV**  
I almost couldn't believe my luck. Nevada had an _online directory_ of warehouses. And the police actually agreed that warehouses were a good place to start. But there were dozens of them, and it seemed like an incomplete list.  
I felt sick. Worse than that, I had a horrible feeling, a _gut feeling_, that we wouldn't get to Gerard in time. Images of him mangled and dead ingrained themselves in my thoughts, and my mind taunted me with my own uncertainty. But I knew one thing: if I found Carrie, whether Gerard was alive or not, I'd kill her.  
I begged the police to let me help look for them, but they kept repeating the same cliche, "let us do our job." So, I saw no other option but to look on my own. I knew they were starting at the top of the list, so, after renting a car and buying an ax, I started at the bottom of the list. 

* * *

**Gee POV**  
I didn't know what time, or even what day it was anymore. Based on the whimpers I heard in the dark, I guessed Ashley was awake the entire time, too. And possibly more terrified than I felt.  
Finally, the woman turned the lights on again. Ashley jerked around, like the light had given her hope of freeing herself again. The woman walked up to her and took her gag off, allowing Ashley to gasp in air through her mouth.  
"Ash, hon...I need you to do something for me," she said.  
"What?" she asked, starting to cry.  
The woman pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number, then put it up to Ashley's ear.  
"Talk to your brother,"  
Panic rose in the teenager's face, like she knew talking to her brother couldn't end well. But, terrified of not doing it, she obeyed.  
"Bob?" she choked out. "Bob!"  
The woman yanked the phone away, and put it up to her ear.  
"Hear that?" she said menacingly.  
I tried to listen to the rest of the conversation, but she walked away, out of the warehouse. She left Ashley without a gag, so I seized the opportunity to try to help her.  
"Ash...hey, sweetheart,"  
She looked at me, crying heavily.  
"How are you tied up? Rope?"  
She nodded, crying harder.  
"Listen...listen, calm down. I'm in chains, so I can't do anything. If you're quick, though, you can get out, but it'll hurt. You willing to go through some pain to get out of here?"  
She sobbed harder.  
"No, no, no, no! It's nothing like _Saw_, I swear. You'd have to dislocate your shoulders, though. _Shhhh_, hon, I know this is scary but you gotta calm down. You can't let her hear you,"  
She tried to hold down her sobs, but she barely succeeded.  
"You need to slide down, just like you're gonna lay down on your back,"  
She took in several deep breathes, and tried to do as I said.  
"I don't...know...if I can," she said between sobs.  
"You can, sweetie, you can. It's not even as bad as breaking an arm. You can do it,"  
She slid down a little further, whimpering even more. I looked around to make sure our holder wasn't anywhere around.  
"Once your head touches the floor, you need to use your teeth on the rope. Hopefully you can find the knot, but if not then work on the rest,"  
I heard a pop, and a small squeal come out of her mouth. Then I heard movement from outside.


	42. Chapter 42

My captor must have knocked me out. I couldn't remember what happened between the time Ashley managed to dislocate her shoulder and the time I woke up in the dark again. My mind was groggy and I couldn't tell whether Ashley was still there or not. But then I heard frantic movements from another area in the warehouse.  
"Hullo?" I murmured.  
Then I felt a gag tied tightly around my face. I squeezed my eyes shut when the light came back on, and I squirmed in discomfort. Slowly, I blinked my eyes open and tried looking around the room. Ashley had disappeared, to my relief. But then I saw a new woman, with short red hair, who looked at me with a wide smirk on her face.  
"Gerard," she said. "I'm so glad to finally meet you."  
My heart sped up and my breathing became erratic. This was Carrie.  
"Yeah, it didn't take me so long to find your brother as I thought it would,"  
_Mikey,_  
I let out a cry through my gag and looked around the room. My brother appeared across from me, passed out and tied to one of the other poles.  
_This isn't right, this isn't right, this isn't right,_  
I could no longer tell what game Carrie was trying to play. Nor did I particularly care anymore. I wouldn't figure it out until she finished it, and I couldn't let her finish it.  
"It was really quite easy once we had access to your phone, and the numbers you guys changed,"  
I squirmed, almost trying to free myself even though I knew it was pointless.  
"Oh, don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt either of you until the rest get here. It shouldn't be that long,"  
Tears leaked out of my eyes as I let my guilt over their fate gnaw at me. I regretted ever taking Milly in. I regretted getting attached to her. I almost regretted not simply letting David have her.  
Then I saw the other woman, leading Ashley back toward her pole. Another heavy weight set on my chest once I saw her pale complexion and I realized my attempt to help her may have only made things worse.  
"There, now," Carrie said. "All fixed up."  
Carrie looked back at me.  
"Why don't we wake Mikey up?"  
I shook my head, allowing more tears to escape.  
She got up anyway, picked up a bucket, and walked over toward Mikey. I screamed through the cloth in my mouth, terrified of what the bucket contained. She ignored my screams, and splashed the contents on him.  
He awoke with a jump and started kicking in an attempt to defend himself. He drew in several gasps before she put a gag over his mouth as well. From the other side, Ashley started crying again. After looking around frantically, Mikey spotted me. His eyes widened, and tried slightly harder to free his hands.  
"Mikey," Carrie said, almost in a scolding tone. "Calm down, now."  
He looked at her, only breathing heavier.  
"Where's your baby?" she asked him.  
His expression quickly turned from fear to hatred.  
"Alicia should be...what...four months along now? Five?"  
He continued to glare, fury clearly building quickly.  
"What happened?"  
His breathing became slower and shallower, and I could see him shaking.  
"_I_ know what happened. I know you made it real fuckin' easy for me to switch Alicia's pills. You practically gave her the abortion yourself,"  
Mikey finally tried lunging, despite his chains. Carrie only laughed, and turned back to me.  
"But _you_...you're the heart of it all, aren't you?"  
I looked at her, more guilty than angry.  
"Well...I suppose Milly is, really. But she's not the one I care about. She would be _nice _to have, but she's not a priority. _You're_ really the reason David's dead, aren't you?"  
She turned to look at Ashley.  
"_Bob_...dearest brother Bob...killed him, yes. Put a bullet in his head,"  
I didn't dare try and correct her.  
"But Gerard led him there. Gerard coordinated the entire thing, didn't he?"  
Carrie's gaze finally rested on me again.  
"You're the reason _my_ brother's dead. Now you're gonna be the reason _your_ brother's dead,"  
My heart fell like lead in my chest.


	43. Chapter 43

**Milly POV**  
After my birthday, one of my chores was to gloss the countertops with Valspar. But Miss Corey didn't tell me when to do it, or that Mr. Evans had been cooking right before I decided to do it. Trent was with me, standing by the sink and reading seventeen magazine out loud. Mocking me for reading it, probably. I noticed the stove was hot, but I didn't think that mattered. But then some of the vapor sprayed about half an inch over the stove, and burst into flame. I jumped back, into Trent.  
"_Holy shit_!" Trent yelled.  
The flames traveled across the wet countertops, and reached the curtains. I froze while the fire ate away at the cloth, terrified. Trent darted to the sink and grabbed a bowl to fill it with water, even though we both knew it wouldn't do any good. I looked around, overwhelmed at the kitchen suddenly engulfed in flames. Eventually my gaze landed on the thing that scared me the most: Miss Corey. 

* * *

**Gee POV**  
Panic consumed me, and tears flowed heavily down my face. I heard the door open, but I didn't bother looking to see who came in, until Carrie turned my attention to them.  
"And our party is complete," she said, smiling.  
I glanced over to see Bob, dripping with blood and seemingly catatonic, being tied up. Ashley tried screaming, as tears rolled down her face.  
"Now, Gerard," Carrie said, rummaging through a bag. "I know you're curious as to whether I'm gonna kill you. I can't tell you what I'm gonna _do_ to you...but I can tell you I won't kill you."  
Someone tore my gag away, and I noticed other women taking off Mikey and Ashley's gags.  
"Why?" I asked in a raspy voice.  
"Why am I not gonna kill you?" she asked incredulously. "Do you _want_ me to kill you?"  
I let out a small sob. "I don't know."  
She leaned in closer to me. "That's why. Death's not really a punishment for you, is it? Not if it's yours. You could take dying. But you couldn't take living with the guilt of causing someone else's death."  
She was right. And I hated that.  
_What would Milly do? What would Milly do?_  
Not beg. Because begging only reinforced David, so it would probably do the same for her. But how could I stop her from hurting my baby brother?  
"But _you_ could," I said.  
She looked at me inquisitively.  
"You could take being the cause of someone else's death,"  
"I guess you could say that,"  
"You can't take being _insane_, though,"  
I barely got the words out of my mouth before I felt a sharp impact across my cheek. Carrie glared at me, seething, but that only encouraged me.  
"You couldn't take your _brother's_ insanity, either,"  
She slapped me again, slightly harder.  
"What do you think you're gonna accomplish here?" she asked angrily.  
"What do you think _you've_ accomplished?" I asked. "You clearly didn't accomplish taking care of your brother."  
"Shut him up!" she yelled to one of her women.  
Then she shook her head. "Never mind! I'll shut him up!"  
She took a metal rod out of her bag, along with a lighter. I felt slightly colder when I saw her start to heat the rod up.  
"You failed at it, actually. He went insane despite you," I continued. "Maybe even because of you. So who's really at fault?"  
She threw the lighter aside, giving up on whatever idea of torture she may have had. I barely saw her move again before a searing pain rippled through my jaw. My head tilted downward and blood dripped from my mouth onto the floor. I was pretty sure she broke my jaw.  
"Being insane's not that bad," she said. "Is it, Mikey?"  
I forced my head back up to look at Mikey, who glared at her with blind rage.  
"The meds are worse, aren't they?" she said. "The numbing feeling that the meds give...that's like true insanity. But you seem to feel something right now. Are you mad because I hit your brother, or are you mad that I killed your kid?"  
Mikey didn't answer, but started trying to get up. A woman standing behind him kicked his legs hard enough to send him back down.  
"Whatever," Carrie said. "Who are we gonna start with?"  
She looked around at the four of us, finally landing her gaze at Ashley.  
"I'll start with you,"  
Ashley started sobbing hard, and Bob finally seemed to wake up and try to free himself. Carrie wiped off my blood from the rod, picked up her lighter again, and started heating the rod up again. Mikey and I both stared for several minutes, watching helplessly as Carrie calmly prepared her weapon and Bob frantically tried to stop her.  
Eventually Carrie held the rod up, admiring the red glow. Then she threw her lighter down again, got up, and walked over to Ashley.  
"You know, I'm sure I would almost like you, if it weren't for everything else. So I hope you don't take this personally,"  
Carrie pressed the rod to the inside of Ashley's right thigh. Ashley squirmed for a couple of seconds, and then started screaming. She jerked around, trying to get away from the heat, while Carrie merely stared at the rod with a dead look on her face.  
"Bitch!" Bob roared.  
She pulled the rod away from Ashley, and watched her sob for a moment. She stared at her weapon, still emotionless. Then, in one swift movement, she swung the rod back down on Ashley's knee. An earsplitting scream ricocheted around the warehouse, along with a sharp crack. I couldn't look at Ashley's agonized face anymore, or Bob's heartbroken expression. My gaze landed on my own brother, who looked like he wanted to throw up.  
I suddenly thought about Frankie. He had to have _some_ idea of where we were. And I hoped, if he was anywhere close, he had a gun with him - regardless of his former guilt over David's death.

* * *

**A/N: Did I mention I went to orientation at WCU? Well, I did. Did I even mention I'm _going_ to WCU? Well, I am.**

**And I realize my chapters are very short. I'm sorry. I'm thinking about combining them when I have time. Or inspiration. Or whatever. But I have only a thimble full right now. Enough to finish the story, at least.**

**Ta-ta for now.**

**That's weird. I never say ta-ta. Anyway. What-fuckin'-ev's.**


	44. Chapter 44

Carrie tossed her rod away and stood still for a moment, thinking.  
"Who's next?" she asked, mainly of herself.  
She looked around at all of us again, her expression still blank. She took her time deciding, like she was waiting for a volunteer. The room seemed to go cold once her gaze stopped on Mikey.  
Carrie went back to her bag and pulled out a small circular saw. My heart raced, and I started to feel sick. She went over to Mikey and kneeled down in front of him, and then used the saw to rip his shirt open. I watched through tear-filled eyes as she fingered his torso, like she was trying to find the best place to start.  
"Hold down his legs," Carrie commanded of whoever would listen. "And make sure his brother sees this."  
Two women held Mikey's legs down, while another one gripped my head and forced my gaze toward him. Carrie started the saw, and positioned herself at an angle so that I could see everything. My begs for her to stop came out garbled, but based on her sudden change in expression, I guessed she understood me anyway.  
She drove the saw into Mikey's flesh, smirking while he screamed in agony. I started writhing, _still_ trying to find a weakness in the chains that bound me. Mikey convulsed as blood poured from his chest and stomach, drenching Carrie's arms. I cried and screamed, terrified and brokenhearted. Eventually she withdrew the saw, and Mikey went limp.  
_No, no, no, no, no. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong._  
Carrie turned back toward me and watched me with an elated expression on her face. She dropped the saw, apparently satisfied with herself. I looked back at Mikey, trying to determine through his pool of blood whether he was still breathing. I couldn't tell.  
"Now that I think about it," she said slowly. "Your little faggot...Frankie? Is that his name?"  
Every heart beat suddenly felt a little more painful.  
"You'd hate to see him go, wouldn't you?"  
I wanted to kill her. I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and watch her bleed from underneath them. I wanted to break her skull. But she had the control. And fucking with her head didn't work. Trying to shift the blame onto her didn't work. I couldn't do anything about her reasoning.  
"I'd love to _watch you_ see him go,"  
But maybe I could do something about her reason.  
"Too bad,"  
I felt the cold pole behind me, testing its strength, and then carefully lined up the back of my head with it. With one hard jerk backward, I started to feel my world disappear.

* * *

**Frankie POV**  
The blood on the side of the building told me I'd found the right warehouse. Based on the flattened grass, it also looked like someone had drug something up to the building - probably a body. Too bad the police weren't there yet, because it sounded like Carrie had _quite_ a bit of backup. I couldn't hear anything from the inside, but I didn't dare check to _make sure_. Instead, I called police incessantly, hoping they'd show up before Carrie killed someone. If she hadn't already.  
I crept around the building, praying that my sounds weren't any louder to them than theirs were to me. My hand rested on the ax the entire time, ready to lunge at the first thing that moved. Once I got to the door, I crouched down and prepared myself.  
A nagging feeling still had a hold of me, telling me it wouldn't be okay. I didn't remember having that the first time around. With David I just felt fear...and now, for some reason, guilt. But I knew I'd have to get over the fucking guilt if I wanted the victims inside to live. Despite Gerard's fantasy-based promise, I'd have to shoot to kill again.  
A police car pulled up, with no lights or siren. Two officers darted out with guns in their hands, and lined up beside me quietly.  
"How many are there?" one of them asked.  
"I don't know," I whispered.  
He sighed irritably, and then edged up to the door.  
"Let's find out," he said.

* * *

**A/N: Oh. Yeah. And my dad got a job. Yaaaaaay! Did I mention he was missing one? Well, he was. And now he's not. For six months he's not, at least.**

**I really need to pay attention to this site more. I've practically neglected it for Mibba.**


	45. Chapter 45

They made gestures telling me to stay back. I heard several shots fired as the police entered the building, but I couldn't _really_ tell what was going on in there. My heart raced and my mind tortured itself with the uncertainty. So I ignored their instructions and followed them in.  
If Carrie _was_ in there, she disappeared pretty quickly. I only saw the four victims, and a few others lying on the ground whom I assumed to be Carrie's accomplices. I couldn't tell if the cops had killed them, nor did I particularly care. In order to calm my frantic heart, I felt myself go on autopilot. I ran over to a passed out Gerard while the cops searched the rest of the warehouse.  
Blood oozed from his jaw, and I could tell it was broken, but other than that he didn't seem too beat up. I moved behind him and looked at the chains, while a few more cops darted inside. Though I didn't know if it would do any good, I swung my ax hard on the loose chains on the floor, and then tried unwrapping Gerard's wrists from there.  
Halfway through, my gaze hovered over to Bob. Though conscious, he looked emotionally exhausted, and the large red stain on him told me someone had shot him. He smiled weakly at me, probably similar to the way I had looked at him the day he saved me.  
I looked over at his sister, whose face looked drenched in tears. She seemed a little worse off than Bob. I could see Carrie had badly burned one leg, and possibly broke a bone in it as well. She stared off into the distance while a police officer worked on her chains.  
Then I saw Mikey. My autopilot turned off, and my heart barely beat through the frigid ice starting to surround it. Carrie had nearly ripped him wide open. I didn't know if he could still possibly be alive. The officer untying him kept a poker face on, refusing to give me any clues about my friend's likely fate.  
Gerard's chains fell from my hand onto the floor, and I laid Gerard gently on his back. Looking back over at the door, I saw paramedics coming in. I watched as they moved Mikey onto the stretcher, and took him out the door. Then it occurred to me - Carrie was probably still alive.  
Seeing Mikey's blood on the floor, I knew I could never live with that. If Mikey _did_ die, part of Gerard would die, too. Part of Alicia would die. Part of everyone would die._Carrie couldn't get away with that_.  
I snatched up my ax from the floor, feeling every ounce of guilt disintegrate. I ran out of the warehouse, and around the building, looking for any piece of evidence that would lead me to Carrie.  
_Where did she hide before?_  
Gerard's house. Where else would she prefer to go, other than right in front of me?  
I bolted toward my rental car, nearly hidden in the tall grass a few hundred yards away. The window wasn't shattered, and I didn't see her inside or under the car, but I knew she was there. My breathing sped up, and my palms felt sweaty. I opened the driver door, pulled the lever to open the trunk, and then stepped back a few feet. Nothing jumped out of the trunk, so I edged up closer to it. I prepared my ax, and then flung the trunk open.  
A feeling of disappointment nearly overcame me when I saw nothing in there, followed by confusion. But then a debilitating pain burst through my leg, sending me to the ground. My ax fell within a few inches beside me.  
I heard a sharp sigh from behind me, and I looked around for the source of it. The pain drowned out the fear, but the fear kept creeping up. After a few seconds, I rolled over, trying to ignore the sharp stabs of pain in my leg, and grabbed my weapon. A foot stepped on my hand, preventing me from making any more moves. Then a hand replaced the foot, and a small body pressed against my back.  
"Well, isn't this a nice turn of events?" a female voice whispered in my ear.  
Cold metal pressed against my head, and suddenly my fear overpowered the pain.  
"Unfortunately, I don't think I can prolong this without the fucking cops noticing. So at least you'll die quickly,"  
I heard her cock the gun. I closed my eyes, and savored what I was sure would be my last few breaths. Then the gun clicked.  
"Fuck!" she spat.  
Relief flooded over me. I took the opportunity that her shock gave me to elbow her in the ribs, and knock her off of me. I sat up, heaved my weapon above my head, and swung.

* * *

**A/N: SO. CLOSE. TO. THE END. Thanks to the people who are still commenting. The very few. I think everyone else has gotten sick of fan fiction. Which, I have to admit, I am, too. So after this series is over I don't think I'll be writing any more chapters for any of them. One, Miracea, I still plan to work on, but as an original (changing some of the characters names and whatnot).**

**Anywho. Enjoy the rest of Give 'Em Hell.**


	46. Chapter 46

After the they fixed my leg, the hospital staff let me into the room with Gerard to wait for him to wake up. While I waited, I looked through the e-mails on my phone. One of them was from Jamia a couple of days before.

_Subject: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?_

In the body was a link to a blog post. I almost didn't want to bother clicking it, but a small part of me wondered if it was important. Good thing that small part of me existed.  
The blog post showed a picture of a stripper, who had ripped Gerard's facial disguise off, kissing him. The caption read, "G Way at Vegas's Sapphire...no way!"  
No fucking way was right. I shot a heated glare at my unconscious boyfriend, who hadn't bothered to tell me of that encounter.  
_But Carrie knew_, I realized. _That's what led her to him._  
My blood boiled. I closed the e-mail session on my phone, grabbed my crutches, stood up as carefully as I could, and hobbled out the door. I _would_ have stormed, if I had the ability.  
After managing to carry myself toward the other end of the hospital, I sat on a bench outside Mikey's operating room. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I knew it was Alicia again. I fumbled a little with my crutches in order to get to it.  
"Hey,"  
"Is he out yet?" she asked, frantic.  
"No, they're still-"  
"What did they say? Is he gonna be okay? Is he gonna be paralyzed? _What's goin' on_?"  
"I don't know, Leesh. I wish I did. Where are you?"  
"Getting on my flight, I'll be there ASAP, I'll call you from the phone plane,"  
"You mean plane phone?"  
The only response I got was a click.  
I waited on the bench, away from my potential ex-boyfriend. An hour or so passed before someone, possibly a technician, came out of the operating room. Even then, he only heaved a sigh and ignored me. The doctors' attitudes continued to worry me and slightly irritate me, but I knew all I could do was keep waiting.  
The police had come and gone before I got any answers. They went with the assumption that I had acted on self-defense. In a way, I had. But either way I wouldn't have corrected them. And either way I don't think they would have _wanted_ me to correct them.  
A surgeon finally came out to talk to me, rather than ignore me.  
"How is he?" I asked.  
"He should be fine, eventually. You can go in to see him after we transfer him, if you're the only one, but you have to be careful. He doesn't need stress right now, of any kind,"  
A huge weight lifted, and my world seemed to start turning again. For the first time in my life, I felt compelled to make sure doctor's orders were enforced.  
"His wife's coming in soon," I warned him.  
An anxious expression crossed his face.  
"I'll look out for her," he said.  
After a few more instructions, he went back in with Mikey. I got up and moved as far out of the way as I could get, and then watched as they rolled Mikey's bed out of the operating room and down the hall. As quickly as I could, I followed them. They took a few minutes setting him up, but after that they let me in.  
Mikey still seemed groggy, either from pain killers or anesthesia, but that only comforted me.  
"Hey," I murmured.  
He squeezed his eyes closed and then blinked several times. For a moment he stared off into space, like he hadn't heard me.  
"Alicia," he mumbled.  
"She's okay. She's on a flight here from New York...she'll be here in a couple of hours,"  
"She switched the pills,"  
That caught me off guard, but then I thought it might simply be the drugs talking.  
"What?"  
He put a hand on his forehead. When he brought his hand back down, I saw he was crying.  
"It's my fault,"  
"No, no, no...Mikey...it's not your fault,"  
_Whatever_ he thought was his fault.  
"It is...I might as well have...just killed the baby myself,"  
Oh, shit.  
"No! No, Mikey..._you_ didn't switch the pills. You didn't do anything wrong,"  
Then it occurred to me that Mikey may have gone a while without his mood stabilizers.  
"I gave it to her. I _gave_ her the...the idea. She was in my house...I should have caught her,"  
A concerned look suddenly crossed his face, and he became noticeably more tense.  
"Where _is_ Carrie?"  
I froze, remembering the grotesque state I left her in.  
"Dead," I said.  
"Are you sure?"  
"Unless I skipped over the lesson in biology about being able to live with a head split in two, then yes,"  
He still didn't relax.  
"Mikey...it's _okay_,"  
He looked at me with wide eyes.  
"No...it's not," a few more tears leaked from his eyes. "Alicia shouldn't be with me."  
"Mikey-"  
"I should have protected her,"  
"Mikey, you _tried_. We _all_ tried. It's no one's fault but Carrie's,"  
He cried even harder, and I wondered just how much stress his guilt was putting on him.  
"How am I supposed to tell her?"  
That question hit me hard. It almost reminded me of Gerard's last conversation with Milly. I wondered if Alicia would _need_ to know the truth, or if it would just upset her for no reason. After all, Mikey didn't know anything to begin with, and when he found out it was too late.  
"Maybe you shouldn't tell her at all,"  
He stared at me for a while, and then nodded.  
"How's everyone else?"  
I sighed.  
"Ashley's leg was burned pretty badly. And her knee cap is broken. But she's okay. She'll heal. And Bob got shot around the hip area...but he'll be fine. Gerard's jaw is broken, and he has a bruised skull or something. And...he'll be fine,"  
I felt a burst of fury thinking about Gerard again.  
"And you got shot," Mikey noted, looking at my leg.  
"Yep. Always a fun experience,"  
Mikey smirked, finally starting to calm down.

* * *

**A/N: Well, at least you know what happened to Mikey and Frankie's legal status. But what about Gerard and Milly? I'm thinking two or three more chapters and an epilogue should cover that.**


	47. Chapter 47

**Gee POV**  
I woke up in a hospital, with a wired jaw. Despite the wire, the relief that flooded over me made me smile a little. Once I started to look around, I saw Frank sitting next to my bed. He stared at me, but not necessarily with a worried expression. In fact, he seemed rather pissed at me. Just when I was about to ask him what was wrong, he pulled his phone out. After a few minutes of looking for something, he showed me the screen.  
"What the hell is that?"  
Me...and some stripper, it looked like. _The stripper at Sapphire_. Then I saw the caption, and a sudden sickening realization hit me. I'd practically _told_ Carrie where I was. And once she knew where I was, she'd been able to find Mikey.  
"WaMi'ey," I garbled. "'Arry."  
"Where's Mikey? He's fine. Carrie's gone. What the hell is _this_?"  
"I'n'n 'ana,"  
Frank stared at me.  
"'E nateeh duh-"  
"I don't know what you're saying,"  
"Ffffag,"  
"_What_?"  
"No..."  
I tried opening the drawer in the bedside table next to me, slightly nervous at that point, but my weak arms couldn't quite pull it out. Frank reached over and yanked it open, saw the small pad of paper in there, pulled it out, and handed it to me. I started scribbling as quickly as I could manage.  
_SHE kissed ME,_ I turned the pad toward him.  
"Yeah, whatever, but why were you at a _strip club_?"  
_I was bored,_  
"I guess blackjack was out of the question?"  
_I'm sorry,_  
"You didn't even have sunglasses on! You were supposed to be hiding!"  
I pointed to the last the I wrote.  
"And what did you say about groupies? That you hate them?"  
I pointed again.  
"There's just so much wrong with this, you don't even know!"  
I pointed repeatedly.  
"You're such a dumbass!"  
_If it makes you feel better, now I'm ugly, too,_ I blinked my sad little eyes at him.  
A tiny smile grew on his face. "Shut up. You're not ugly."  
_I might never speak clearly again, either,_  
"You're just being pathetic now,"  
_I'm sorry, Frankie dearest,_  
His expression finally brightened to half annoyed, half amused.  
"You still could have told me,"  
I pointed again.  
He smirked, unable to stay mad at his pathetic, broken boyfriend. "I forgive you."  
_Can I have a kiss?_  
"No, the doctor said my mouth can't touch you until your jaw fully heals,"  
_It can't touch ANY part of me?_  
He shook his head. "_Any_ part of you."  
_:'(_  
"There's still something else we need to take care of,"  
_What?_  
"Milly,"  
My heart dropped, and I didn't bother looking at Frank after writing down my next sentence.  
_I terminated my foster parent agreement,_  
"I know. You could still adopt her,"  
I liked that idea. But I knew Milly wouldn't.  
_She's probably happy where she is,_  
"She's been getting in trouble just to get sent back to you,"  
I looked at him.  
"I called there today. Her latest endeavor, with a fucking boy named Trent: setting the kitchen on fire,"  
My eyes widened.  
"They're looking for someone else to take them. _Anyone_ else," 

* * *

After a few days of healing, and trying to soothe Mikey's guilt...and Frankie trying to soothe my own guilt...I boarded a plane to Oklahoma. Frankie's leg prevented him from flying for a while, so Lyn came with me instead. It _almost_ seemed familiar.  
"She's gonna be happy to see you,"  
I would have smiled at the idea.  
"Happier to leave Oklahoma,"  
_Have you talked to her?_  
"A few times. She said she doesn't like her therapist,"  
_What about Trent?_  
"Oh, she _really_ likes _him_," she said, a small smirk on her face.  
_Who the fuck IS HE?_  
"Well...you know...another foster kid there. He's nice, though. I've talked to him, too,"  
She must have seen something in my expression, because she laughed.  
"They'd be dumbasses if they didn't let you take her back,"  
Dumbasses, indeed. And finally they realized that.  
I felt more nervous than I had the first time. The anxiety only increased as we landed, rented a car, and drove all the way to the address the social worker gave me. I still wondered if that was a good idea.  
The woman called "Miss Corey" answered the door, and seemed to be relieved when she saw it was me.  
"Finally," she huffed. "Milly, get your shit!"  
After a few minutes I saw two suitcases fly down the hall, one after the other, and land beside the couch.  
"_What the hell was that_?"  
"My _shit_!" I heard a barely familiar voice.  
"God, I can't wait until you leave," Miss Corey muttered.  
A man standing by the hallway smirked at the suitcases. Milly came along and hugged him. A smile nearly appeared on my face, despite my broken jaw.  
"Sorry, little girl," the man said.  
"S'okay," she said.  
Another boy, barely older than her, came up behind her and touched her arm. She turned to him and gave him a hug, too. He had a sad look on his face, clearly upset for her to leave. They exchanged a few words, but all I could hear him say was "be good."  
Then she saw Lyn and me, and a huge smile broke out on her face. She ran up to me and hugged me, hard enough to actually make me nearly lose balance. I held up my pad of paper.  
_We're gonna have to play role reversal for a while. Broke my jaw. I missed you._  
She looked up at me. "I missed you, too. I'm sorry I threw a fit...and ran away...again."  
I wrapped her in another hug.  
"What about Carrie?"  
I paused, and then scribbled on my pad.  
_On the plane,_  
She nodded. The man that hugged her brought her things over. As I bent over to pick them up, Milly said something else.  
"Trent,"  
I exhaled sharply. I didn't know him, but I knew what she was thinking. After seeing the look on his face when he saw her leaving, I instantly regretted signing the papers to terminate my foster parenthood.  
_Milly...I'm not a foster parent anymore. I don't think I can take him. Not very quickly, anyway._  
"But they're looking for someone to take him, anyway. He doesn't even need to find a way to get kicked out,"  
I half-laughed, though my amusement was short lived. She waited patiently while I wrote down what I wanted to say.  
_No...sweetie, social services would still want the same amount of time and paper work and he's not exactly in their top priority like you are. I think when it comes to adoption they try to get those kids outta the system first. They'd want a foster parent for him._  
"Like me," I heard Lyn-z say.  
I turned around. She'd been reading my writing.  
_What?_  
"When you signed the contract for foster parenthood, we were married. So you signed both of us into the contract. We got divorced, so we became separate foster parent units. You might have terminated your contract, but I haven't terminated mine. And I've called here. I've talked to Milly over the phone, and met Trent over the phone. Like I said...he's nice,"  
Milly smiled wider than I'd ever seen her smile. She hugged Lyn nearly as hard as she'd hugged me. I smiled at Lyn, but I sensed a familiar situation.  
_What about Jimmy?_  
She smirked. "Well...adopting a kid without your partner's permission doesn't _always _turn out so bad, does it?"  
I laughed a little.  
"No, I've talked to him about fostering. He's good with it. As long as Trent doesn't punch him in the balls," she looked at Milly.  
Milly tried to hide a smirk.

* * *

**A/N: Yaaaaaaay, we all knew that was going to happen! **

**I might be able to milk another chapter out of this, and then do an epilogue. I won't lie, I'm glad this is almost over. It used to be fun. It's not so much anymore.**

**Anyway, comment if you're reading because I'm only getting one or two people commenting anymore. You might be the only two reading, but...anyway. I'll just go write the next chapter now.**


	48. Chapter 48

The house seemed eerily quiet when Milly, Frankie and I walked in. Milly looked at us, confused.  
"Where are the dogs?" she asked.  
"Jamia took the dogs while we were gone," Frankie said.  
"Oh,"  
On the plane, I told Milly everything that happened. The _truth_ of what happened. She cried about some things, seemed mad about others, but over all she took it pretty well. I guess I _had_ underestimated her all along.  
Milly picked up some of her luggage and headed toward her room. I picked up the rest and followed her. Walking into her room reminded me of the last time she ran away. Hopefully she'd decided that was the final time.  
When I opened her bags on her bed and started taking things out, I saw something I didn't really like. I grabbed my notepad.  
_You have a BRA? You mean I missed taking you to get your first BRA?_  
She stared at me for a while, looking a little amused and doubtful at the same time.  
"Did you _want_ to take me to get my first bra?"  
I thought about it a little more.  
_It was for the best_, I admitted.  
Frankie appeared beside the door. He looked exhausted, but he still had a weak smile on his face.  
"You wanna take a break from all that and go see Mikey?" he asked Milly.  
Milly grinned. "Yes." 

* * *

Mikey seemed much more alert in his bed at home than he did at the hospital, but, like Frankie, he still looked exhausted. He smiled when he saw Milly come through the door.  
"Blue Bell's back," he murmured.  
"Hi, Mikey,"  
"Hey, Girly,"  
"I missed you,"  
"I missed you, too,"  
"How're you feeling?"  
"Like shit,"  
"Mikey!" Frankie whispered forcefully, though I could tell he was amused.  
"She's a _foster child_, Frank," he said.  
"Not anymore," she said, smirking. "I'm _adopted_."  
"Yeah. She's officially Gerard's kid now,"  
"Legally," she clarified, obviously uncomfortable identifying anyone else as an _actual _parent of hers.  
"Well...I guess I have to stop saying 'fuck' around you, then," Mikey smirked.  
_You will indeed,_ I wrote.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry. This is all I could come up with. It was tax free weekend here and I spent ALL weekend shopping. Bleh. Plus I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I don't know why. Anyway. I leave the 17th, but my goal is to have the epilogue posted by the 8th. Aaaaaand today's the 6th, so I doubt that'll happen...but I'll try.**


	49. Epilogue

Milly put the lunch money I gave her in her messenger bag. My favorite thing about her outfit - her _green_ peace sign shirt. Of course, it seemed a little middle school for her first day of high school, but I was still just happy to see her wearing other colors.  
I still couldn't believe she was going into high school. I couldn't believe _over three years_ had passed since I first took her in, and _two years_ had passed since our last incident. My jaw had fully healed and I could talk again, Mikey's wound closed up and only a long scar was visible, and Frankie, Ashley, and Bob were all able to walk again.  
"You got your phone?" I asked.  
She rolled her eyes and smirked. The scar on her cheek was barely visible anymore.  
"Yes," she said.  
"Just checking,"  
"Trent's picking you up?"  
"Yes,"  
"Are you gonna behave?"  
"What do you mean, 'behave?'" she asked, trying to sound offended. Her smile and blush gave her away, though.  
Everyone knew they'd date eventually. We just didn't know they'd wait until three months after Milly turned fourteen.  
"I mean are you gonna make out in the car and skip class,"  
"Shut up!" she blushed even brighter.  
"Are you?"  
"_No_,"  
"So you're gonna behave?"  
"Yes,"  
I looked behind me at Frankie, who gave me the disbelieving smirk I expected.  
"Oh, crap!" Milly exclaimed, suddenly running to her room.  
"I knew she forgot something," I said, turning to Frankie.  
He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I returned the embrace.  
"I wanna ask you something," he said.  
He'd been acting a little weird lately. Specifically since Mikey and Alicia - finally - had their baby boy, which gave me a good idea of what was going through his head.  
"So ask,"  
"Well..."  
"No, Angie's List doesn't have surrogates," I looked down at him.  
"I can't even _think_ around you,"  
"I know you too well,"  
"So is that a yes?"  
"To what?"  
He gave me a frustrated glare.  
"Babe..." I sighed.  
"Come on, Gee,"  
"We've got Milly,"  
"And she is amazing, and it's been amazing having her, but...I want one of my own,"  
I sighed again, but I knew I could only hold out against him for so long. I kissed his neck.  
"You know surrogates are expensive,"  
"So is living in L.A.," he countered. "Plus, in another four years Milly will be out of the house. It'll be lonely."  
"True. That's true. I wouldn't want that to happen,"  
"And you don't want my DNA to go to waste, when it's perfectly replicatable,"  
"Is replicatable a word?"  
"_Pleeeeeeeeaaaase_?" he begged.  
"We'll do it," I laughed.  
"I knew you were messing with me!"  
He flung his arms around my neck and hugged me tight.  
"IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!" he giggled.  
"I love you, too, babe," I said.  
Before I could even think about kissing him, I heard Milly coming back down the hall. Frankie returned his arms back around my waist and tried to calm himself.  
"Trent's here, I'm leaving now," Milly said, already near the front door.  
"Have a good day, Blue Bell," Frankie said.  
"Hey," I beckoned her back over and held a fist out toward her.  
She smiled and touched her fist to mine.  
"Give 'em hell, Girly," I told her.

_**THE FUCKING END**_

* * *

**A/N: I _did_ do it by Wednesday! But I'd had this part in my head since I started the last story, so I shouldn't be surprised about that. I'M SO HAPPY THIS IS OVER, YOU HAVE NO IDEA! Now I can go off to college in peace. And this story's only about 4,000-5,000 words shorter than the last one. YAY!**


End file.
